CIA I: Followed
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tim-centric as usual. Complicated plot. Now complete. Enjoy! This is part one of my CIA series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story arose out of a nightmare I had one morning about being followed in a parking garage. It grew into this. shrugs It's fairly intense...and even action-packed on occasion, but don't hold that against me. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of the NCIS franchise. It should patently obvious, but I'll still write it...just in case.

* * *

**Followed...  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

_2 a.m. Saturday morning..._

Tim sighed as he listened to the voice needling him over the phone. It was bad enough that he had to deal with Tony every day at work, but now when work was long over and he was on his way to his car after going out to unwind, Tony _still_ was bothering him. He closed his eyes and tried to keep himself from hanging up. _Tony wouldn't do this if he hated me,_ he reminded himself and then added that maybe it would be better if he did.

"Tony, did you really call me up just to be annoying? I was having a very nice evening until you started talking."

"Oh, come on, now, Probie! Don't be like that!" Tony said, and Tim could just picture him with his mock-innocent expression. At least they were separated by however many miles because otherwise Tony would undoubtably be throwing something at him...or else, Tim would finally snap and punch him in the face in an effort to wipe that annoying expression off it.

"Tony, please, do me a favor and..." Tim trailed off and looked back. There were two shadowy figures behind him. They had been about the same distance behind him ever since he had come into the parking garage. It was late and very few other people were around. Tim sped up his pace just a little bit, his shadows did as well. He slowed down; so did they. He was out-numbered, and his car was still quite a distance away. Who knew if (assuming that these guys were actually following him) there were more people waiting for him when he got near his car. What was the best thing to do here?

"McGee?"

Tim suddenly remembered that he had been talking to Tony. "Tony...I think...I think I'm being followed," he said slowly.

Tony snorted. "Right, McGee."

"I'm not kidding, Tony."

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back on his couch. What a perfect end to his day: Probie-baiting. "Come on, Probie. This is pretty lame, even for you."

Tim really did sound nervous. "They're catching up to me, Tony. I think..."

Tony sat up and muted the television when he heard distant voices.

"_Stop!"_

"_What do you want? Why are you–?"_

The phone hit the ground and Tony winced from the feedback. "McGee? McGee! McGee!"

He heard the sound of scuffling and then a single high-pitched scream.

"McGee!" he shouted. He quickly called Gibbs. "Boss...we have problem."

"Yes, we do, DiNozzo. It's two in the morning and you woke me up."

"No, I think McGee was just attacked."

"What?"

"I was talking to him on the phone and he said he thought he was being followed. I heard him talking to someone, but..."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. I just called him."

"Well, don't disconnect. Call Abby. We need to run a trace and find where he..._was_...if he's not there now."

Tony disconnected from Gibbs and hurriedly dialed Abby's number. He hoped that they wouldn't find McGee's body...or what would be nearly as bad...nothing at all...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Monday morning, 7:30 a.m._

After two full days of looking for Tim, they had nothing...nothing except Tim's phone which had been lying on the ground in the parking garage. Even Tim's car was gone without a trace. The security cameras in the garage were broken in the section where Tim had parked his car. Everyone was exhausted, having worked through the night and slept at their desks. Abby had refused to leave. They had even checked out Tim's apartment on Saturday. There was nothing there. Tim seemed to have vanished without a...

The elevator dinged.

"Morning, guys!" Tim said jovially as he stepped into the bullpen. Tony, Ziva, Gibbs and Abby looked at him in shock which quickly turned to disbelief and then amazement.

"Tim! You're okay! Where have you been?" Abby shrieked and launched herself at him, nearly taking him down in her excitement.

Tim was totally confused as he fended off Abby's welcome. "What are you talking about, Abby? It's Monday morning. It was the weekend. I was home. What are you all doing here? Did I miss something?" Tim looked worriedly at Gibbs who was still standing by his desk in shock. "Boss, I swear, I lost my phone somewhere this weekend. I haven't been able to find it. I had no idea you guys were working. What's the case?"

Ziva and Tony looked speechlessly at Tim.

"Where have you been all weekend, McGee?" Gibbs asked finally.

"Just in my apartment, typing."

"Did you ever leave?"

Tim looked embarrassed. "Not...not really. Time just got away from me, I guess. I hardly noticed the days go by." He looked at Tony and Ziva. "You guys look awful. Didn't you get any sleep at all? What happened?"

"You were missing, McGee," Tony managed to say.

Tim laughed. "Right, Tony. I think I'd know if I'd gone missing."

"I talked to you on the phone Saturday morning. You said you were being followed. You disappeared, McGee."

Tim laughed again, but there was a tinge of worry attached to it. "Okay, is this a joke? My punishment for losing my phone?" He looked around at everyone. They were all very serious. "Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but...this is just silly. There's no way..."

"We searched your apartment on Saturday, McGee. You weren't in it. We found your phone in a parking garage. Tony heard you talking to someone."

"This is ridiculous, Boss. I never went anywhere. I just stayed home. I never talked to Tony." Tim backed away from everyone, feeling most uncomfortable. Their eyes didn't leave him. The confusion he felt was mirrored on their faces.

"What's the last thing you remember, Tim?" Abby asked.

"What kind of a question is that? I woke up this morning, got out of bed, showered, shaved, got in my car and came here."

Gibbs was staring at Tim intently...just his eyes, watching for a flash of something that would show he was lying, or that he was remembering something else.

"Go through your weekend for us, McGee. Start with Friday night."

Tim was nearly back at the elevator again. Another couple of steps back and he hit the wall.

"Why, Boss?"

"Because, McGee, we _know_ that you were missing. We _know_ that you weren't in your apartment on Saturday. What we don't know is what you _thought_ you were doing."

"I wasn't _thinking_ it, Boss! I was _doing_ it."

"What, McGee."

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay, fine. Friday night, I was going to go to an opera. My publisher keeps trying to get me to go to these social events to drum up publicity. I didn't really want to go; so I dragged my feet and made sure I was too late getting back to my apartment to go. I went to bed early and decided to spend the whole day writing to make it up to her. I didn't get very far. So I decided to write on Sunday as well. I didn't leave. I didn't go anywhere. Then, I went to bed Sunday night and got up this morning...and somewhere on the way, I stepped into the _Twilight Zone_."

"Okay, here's the problem, Probie. I know that you weren't in your apartment at 2 a.m. on Saturday because you were talking to me and telling me that you were being followed..."

"I _didn't_!" Tim protested.

"Then, at around 8 a.m. Saturday morning, we went to your apartment," Tony continued as if Tim hadn't interrupted. "It was empty. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign that someone had been looking for something there. The only fingerprints there were yours, Abby's, mine, Ziva's, and a couple of people who must be friends of yours whose whereabouts we've already verified." When Tim looked as though he were going to protest again, Tony added, "Do you want to see? _We_ have proof, McGee." Tony walked back to his desk and brought up the evidence photos, first of Tim's phone and the parking garage and then of Tim's apartment.

"Wh-When did you take those?" Tim whispered.

"_Saturday_. Two days ago."

Tim shook his head. "No, that's not possible. I was _home_ on Saturday. I was working!" He looked around at the others who were still staring at him as if he were from outer space. "Stop _looking_ at me like that! I _know_ where I was. I _know_ what I was doing."

"Come on, McGee." Gibbs reached out a hand to direct Tim toward the elevator.

Tim pulled away. He was completely freaked out now. "Why? Where am I going?"

"To see Ducky."

"I feel fine, Boss," Tim said, an hysterical tinge to his declaration.

Gibbs sighed and looked at Tim full on. "You're just reacting right now, McGee. You're not thinking. Think about this logically. What is more likely? That everyone in NCIS from Director Shephard on down is crazy or that something happened to you this weekend that you don't remember."

Tim stared at him with frightened eyes. "I would remember, Boss. I wouldn't..."

"You might not. So, let's get Ducky to tell us if someone's done something to you. Okay?"

Tim finally nodded, glancing worriedly at the photos of his apartment still on the plasma. "Okay."

Gibbs gave Tony and Ziva a significant look as Tim turned toward the elevator. They both nodded. Abby followed Gibbs.

Tim's mind was in a whirl. _This isn't possible! There has to be a rational explanation!_ he said to himself, but he couldn't think of a single thing. He fought down the panic, sure that Ducky would find that nothing was wrong and that it was all just a big mistake. _That's all, just a mistake._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Saturday morning 2:05 a.m._

The men had decided not to wait. They began to close the distance.

"I'm not kidding, Tony," he said, knowing he sounded nervous.

Tony said something, but his voice had become very far away. Tim couldn't decide if he was going deaf or if he was just panicking.

"They're catching up to me, Tony," Tim said, and then, he realized that no one knew where he was tonight. It had been a last minute change of plans, not even Lyndi had any idea...not that she would care beyond the fact that he'd slipped out of _another_ one of her stupid publicity events. "I think..." Tim trailed off as the men reached him. For some reason, he still couldn't see their faces. He felt ill, weak, terrified. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest and he couldn't catch his breath. The phone slipped from his fingers and cracked onto the pavement. He was afraid he'd broken it, but he didn't dare bend down to check.

One of the men, at least he _thought_ they were men, pulled out a gun.

"Stop!" he said, holding up his hands.

Amazingly, the two figures did as he said...they stopped, although he had no idea why.

"What do you want? Why are you–?" Before Tim could finish his question, he was grabbed from behind. He struggled against the grip of...another shadow. Then, suddenly, he was released. He got one chance to look at his attackers...still nothing more than black fuzzy images before wave upon wave of pain set all his nerves on fire. He shrieked, not caring how pitiful he sounded, wanting only to get free of the pain, to somehow force it out of him on waves of sound. Then, the darkness rushed in.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Monday morning 7:43 a.m._

"Good morning, Jethro. Have you found...Timothy!" Ducky said, smiling broadly as Tim came into Autopsy behind him, Abby's arms firmly around his waist. "When did you get here?"

"Same time I do every day, Ducky," Tim said nervously, his eyes darting back and forth. "I still think you've all gone crazy."

Ducky looked at Tim in surprise.

"He thinks nothing happened," Gibbs said quickly.

"Nothing _did_ happen! How many times do I have to _tell_ you?" Tim said, trying to free himself from Abby's grasp.

Ducky looked from Tim to Gibbs and back again. "You seem rather worked up, Timothy. Why don't you just have a seat and we'll see how things are."

Tim finally got Abby to release him. "There's nothing wrong with me...except that you all seem to think that _I'm_ crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy, McGee. I just think you don't remember."

Tim turned from Gibbs to Ducky, seeming to be desperate for someone to be on his side. "But I _do_ remember! If I had some sort of blank spot in my memory, I'd understand why you might believe that something is wrong. But I _don't_! I remember the whole weekend! I have my book! I still need to reread what I wrote, but...I have it! I stacked the pages before I left!"

"Did you _read_ them, Timothy?" Ducky asked gently.

"No, I didn't have time, but I have them. I can show you." Tim looked around again. "Please..._believe_ me."

Ducky put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim flinched away.

"Just treat this as you would any other case, Timothy. We're clearing away all the red herrings in order to find the real problem. Right?"

Tim sighed.

"Exactly. Now, hop up and let's get going."

Tim moved to one of the tables, but Ducky noticed that he seemed reluctant to let anyone touch him. Of course, it could just be because he was so unnerved by the shock, but Ducky wasn't sure.

"All right. We're going to treat this just like a regular physical: Body temperature, blood pressure, pulse and respiratory rate. We'll also do blood and urine tests. Since Abby is right here, she can just run them through."

Tim stopped in the middle of starting to sit on the table. "What?" he asked, blushing scarlet. "Couldn't we just do this at a nice..._anonymous_ hospital?"

"Well, I suppose–" Ducky began, but Gibbs cut him off.

"No, McGee. Let's just get it done."

Abby grinned at Tim's discomfort. "I promise, Tim, I won't hold your bodily fluids against you."

If it was possible, Tim's face went an even brighter shade of red, but he sat down on the table with a reluctant sigh.

"Very good. Let me get my bag. I don't get to perform tests on living specimens very often. It keeps me sharp."

Tim blushed again. "Just...hurry. I'd rather just carry on thinking you guys are the ones with the problems."

"Stick this under your tongue then, Timothy," Ducky instructed, poking a thermometer in his mouth. As he reached out to attach the pressure cuff, Tim flinched again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Timothy. This is quite painless."

Tim just rolled his eyes and allowed Ducky to roll up his sleeve and put on the cuff. He sat quietly because with the thermometer in his mouth he couldn't say anything, but Ducky could tell that Tim was uncomfortable with the continued scrutiny. However, Gibbs had no intention of leaving, and Abby might as well stay until she could take the blood and urine samples up to her lab. In the silence, Ducky took Tim's pulse rate and was unpleasantly surprised at how high it was.

"How long has your heart been pumping this fast, Timothy?"

"Wha-o-you-mea?" Tim asked around the thermometer.

"Your heart is beating at nearly 140 beats per minute! That's tachycardic and possibly dangerous! How long?"

Tim shrugged and shook his head, his eyes wide. Ducky looked more closely at his eyes, causing Tim to lean away from him. Before asking his next question, Ducky pulled the thermometer out of Tim's mouth and looked at the reading. He shook his head again in concern. "You're also running a slight fever." He proceeded to take Tim's blood pressure and whistled. "What were you doing this weekend? Did you go to an ophthalmologist, perchance?"

"An ophthalmologist? Are you kidding? No! I just stayed at home. I've been saying it over and over!"

"I do not see how that is possible, given your symptoms."

"What symptoms? I'm totally freaked out right now. Of course my vitals aren't going to be normal," Tim protested.

"Not like this." He shoved the urine sample container at him. "Go on."

Tim blushed again. "Is this really necessary?"

"More than ever. Go," Ducky ordered, sounding more like Gibbs than himself. As Tim walked out of the room, Ducky looked back at the other two. "You have no idea what he was doing?"

"None. According to McGee _he never left his apartment_ from Friday evening to now."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"His blood pressure is too low; he's feverish; his pupils are slightly dilated; and his heart rate is accelerated." Ducky shook his head again and said softly, almost to himself, _"Hot as a Hare, Dry as a Bone, Red as a Beet, Mad as a Hatter, Blind as a Bat_. I would say that he's on the end of some sort of anticholinergic toxidrome."

"Meaning?" Gibbs asked.

"Meaning either Timothy is a closet drug user or he was drugged sometime over the weekend. There may be nothing left in his system, but we'd better check at any rate, and he should relax. A hospital visit might not be a bad idea."

Gibbs let out a short chuckle. "Not likely, given the circumstances."

"I'm sure you're right," Ducky said and then watched Tim come back into the room, shamefacedly holding his urine sample. "Wonderful. Last step and I'm done with you...for now."

"Great," Tim said without enthusiasm. This trip down here had done nothing to relieve his worries...only increase them. He was wracking his brain trying to find a piece that didn't fit, but nothing came to him. It was all...so normal. He could hardly believe that his day had turned so crazy so quickly.

"Back on the table," Ducky said, patting the stainless steel.

Tim sat down again and allowed Ducky to roll up both sleeves. He was so distracted by his own chaotic thoughts that he didn't notice Ducky's expression of concern at the large bruise that had formed in the crook of his right arm.

"Just a little stick. Quick and painless."

"Not quite painless," Tim corrected, feeling suddenly very uneasy about the whole thing.

"True, but it will be like a pin prick and then it will be done."

Tim took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. This was nothing to worry about, nothing to... he looked at the needle and closed his eyes. When he felt the needle prick his arm he stiffened and then felt everything start to spin. He slumped over on top of Ducky...unconscious.

"Oh dear," Ducky said and, with Gibbs' help, quickly laid Tim down on the table. It was an unsettling image to have Tim lying there where he normally had dead customers, not live ones.

"What happened?" Abby said running forward.

"I guess our brave young agent is afraid of needles."

"But he got a tattoo," Abby pointed out.

"True," Ducky said. "Some people don't like seeing their blood drawn and we know Timothy isn't the best around gory scenes." He continued to take his blood sample which he then passed off to Abby. "You had best get started, my dear." When she showed no inclination to move, he added, "You know, Abigail, if you get started now, we can figure out this whole strange event more quickly."

Abby sighed. "You're right, Ducky. He'll be okay, though, right?"

"Of course! He'll be just fine."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Desert...hot on his feet...danger everywhere...bright lights...no...cold...colder than ice...still bright lights...burning his eyes...run...run away..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timothy?" Ducky said calmly as Tim's eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Dark shadows...monsters...chasing...running...always running...no escape..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ducky?" Tim said, wrenching his eyes open once more. "Wha...What happened?"

"Frightened of needles?" Ducky asked, an understanding smile on his face.

"No. I give blood all the time. I've never had a problem with needles," Tim said faintly.

"Do you think you can sit up?"

"Sure," Tim said. He sat up...and nearly fell off the table.

"I guess not," Ducky said, easing him back down. "So... you say that you're _not_ afraid of needles?"

"No. Not at all."

"So, what happened?"

"I don't know," Tim admitted.

"Did you give blood, recently?"

"No. Uh...it's been...probably about a month."

"Let's try sitting up again..._slowly_ this time." Carefully, Ducky eased Tim upright. He managed to make it up and then drank gratefully from the water bottle Gibbs thrust at him.

"Then, where did that bruise come from?" Ducky asked, holding up Tim's right arm.

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion. "I...I don't...know. I...It...I don't remember," he whispered, seemingly pained by the admission. He looked at Ducky and then at Gibbs with frightened eyes. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, McGee. Let's find out, shall we?" Gibbs answered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Saturday morning 3 a.m._

Tim came to lying flat on his back. He opened his eyes and closed them again. _Too bright!_ The light seemed to seep under his tightly closed eyelids. The floor beneath was hot...floor? Was it a floor? Tim sat up and looked around. All he could see was blurred light. He felt the heat coming up from the floor..._the ground_. _How did I get here? Where is here?_ He stood and then saw one of the shadows coming toward him. The lights burned his eyes, but he tried to keep them open so he could see where to run. The shadow moved toward him, filling him with terror. He began to hyperventilate and tried to back away...

_voices yelling...demanding...sounds thundering in his ears..._

...but then, he was on fire, burning in the light. He screamed...and screamed again. All the while, the light burned him. There was no blissful unconsciousness this time, just the unending pain, just the continuing light, punctuated at intervals by evil shadows.

_Monday morning 8:15 a.m._

"Where are Tony and Ziva?" Tim asked when they returned to the bullpen.

"At your apartment," Gibbs said shortly and pointed to Tim's desk. "Sit down."

"What?" Tim said, ignoring Gibbs' direction. "Why are they at my apartment?"

"They're seeing how long you were there," Gibbs answered and sat down at his desk. He looked up and saw Tim standing in the middle of the bullpen, looking frustrated. "Sit!"

"This is worse than my nightmares," Tim muttered under his breath and headed to his seat.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Boss," Tim said quickly. The last thing he needed was Gibbs yelling at him.

Gibbs looked at him for a long time. There had been nothing in Tim's behavior that indicated anything other than confusion and worry. He wasn't lying...at least as far as he knew...and that was worrying because that meant that something had happened that not only robbed Tim of his memory, but replaced it with new memories...and convincing memories at that.

"I get that you're frustrated and confused, McGee, but so are the rest of us. Whether you like it or not, this is a case, and you need to wrap your head around that fact! We're not going to back off just because you'd rather be comfortably ignorant," Gibbs warned.

Tim flushed and turned away from Gibbs' penetrating gaze. He looked at the computer screen and decided that he might as well get caught up their last case. It gave him a small surge of pride when he looked at his as-yet-unfinished report because this case had been almost completely computer work, and if there was one place he _knew_ he was better than the others, it was in computers.

_Where is he? Tell me where he is!_

Tim blinked and shook his head. He looked over at Gibbs, but he was doing something on his own computer and was not paying Tim any attention.

_I could have sworn... Maybe I didn't get as much sleep this weekend as I thought I did..._ Tim thought to himself. It wasn't uncommon for him to stay up too late writing, and sometimes he really didn't pay attention to the time when he did stop. _Gibbs hasn't told me to do anything, and I'm still feeling a bit draggy. I can close my eyes for a few minutes. He probably won't even notice._ Tim leaned on his hand and let his eyes drift shut.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Rough hands seized him and shook him vigorously. Pain...light...light everywhere..._

"Prooooo-biiiiiie!" came a singing voice.

Tim sat up and shouted, "Turn off the lights!" His heart pounding wildly, he looked around and realized that he was in the bullpen...and that Tony, Ziva and Gibbs were staring at him in surprise. He blushed. "Sorry..." he muttered.

"Bad dream?"

Tim thought back and felt the vivid dream he'd been having slip away. "I...I don't...Not really."

"Are you becoming a creature of ze night?" Tony asked in a vampire-ish accent.

"No," Tim said. He looked at Ziva and saw that she was holding a pile of paper in her hands. "Is...is that my book?"

"In a manner of speaking," Ziva answered. "It came from your apartment and it was stacked beside your typewriter."

Tim stood up. "What does that mean?"

"You tell us, McGee," Ziva said, holding out the stack. "If this is how your next book is going, I am not sure it will do well."

Tim reached out for the pages. The first few were from last week. He had only been able to snatch a few minutes here and there to type, but after that... he looked up. "Is this...It can't be..." Tim looked at Gibbs who saw the rising panic.

"What, McGee?"

Tim didn't answer and continued to shuffle through the pages, searching desperately for what he remembered. It wasn't there and the pages slipped from his nerveless fingers into a disordered jumble on the floor. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked at Gibbs and shook his head, the blood draining from his face. Gibbs recognized the approaching collapse and grabbed Tim before his knees buckled. He forced him down onto his chair and then pushed his head between his knees.

"Breathe, McGee," he said and then looked at the mess of pages on the floor. He reached out and picked one up and looked at it.

_asdlkj 40 adf9u q2045tu vefj sdklfj09 u09fu aidfjv235ou 9wf voifq4rtuq834 uqerfu qwyu v389 asodfi vq3489q ksadfja4rja ksdfy8q4 fghaw8e4ryry rn238 weaadfgksldfjaf light aslkd fas;eoi ruqfsdfajklfj qfklf aoifjawie rfauifaoif hfa8ewrh af8aiwerh 84 9qhaf 04ts a.mas fi a.m I lkjf ifajs fj ifjkla j wer'oewjf,.cm iwml.s;lamna/l;vm ai_

The pages were filled with it, as if someone had sat down and randomly pushed keys without any thought toward making real thoughts or even real words.

"There was nothing else in his apartment?"

Ziva shook her head. "I searched for any other place he might have stored the pages, but this was all there was."

"His bed looks slept in, so at least he was there this morning...and his car is outside," Tony added.

"I know I drove to work, Tony," Tim said faintly, but he didn't try to sit up.

"You also _knew_ that you had been home all weekend, Probie," Tony observed and then noticed something. "Probie...what's that on your neck?"

"M-My neck?" Tim asked, sounding distinctly ill.

"Yeah, look at that, Boss," Tony said, pointing to a discolored area just below the level of Tim's collar.

Tim started trying to sit up, his hands flying to his neck, probing to find whatever it was that Tony had seen. Gibbs batted his hands away and pulled down his collar.

"McGee...take off your shirt."

Tim sat up...very quickly. "What?"

"Take off your shirt, McGee," Gibbs repeated patiently.

Tim's eyes were wild as he stared, first at Gibbs and then at paper in his hand. "What's going on?" he asked, sounding hysterical. He tried to back away from them again, but he was cornered. "How could I not remember all this? How could I not remember...typing...all _that_?"

"I don't know, McGee. Let us take us a look, okay?" Tony said.

Instead of capitulating, Tim began to frantically feel the skin on his neck and just below. "What is that?" he whispered.

"Let us see," Gibbs said.

Finally, Tim nodded and with trembling fingers undid the buttons. It seemed to take hours, but he finally finished and shucked off his shirt. Then, he allowed himself to be turned around and tensed at the gasps he heard behind him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Almost in awe, Ziva reached out and touched one of the livid red marks on Tim's back. "These are electrical burns," she said. There were six all together. Two at the top, just below his neck; two just below his shoulder blades; and a final two just above his waist. "Did you not notice these?"

"And the bruises. How did you not feel them?" Tony interjected.

Tim felt as though his life had spun totally out of control. Gone was any attempt to pretend that his version of the weekend's events was accurate, but he felt as much at a loss about what had happened to him as he was to picture the wounds on his back.

"I...I felt stiff when I woke up this morning, but I don't always have the best posture when I'm writing. I figured...I had just slept wrong. I didn't even look," he said. Then, he suddenly turned, forcing Tony and Gibbs to back up. He pushed past them and ran to the men's room, wanting to know _something_ about himself for certain. The door bounced off the wall as he burst inside. He turned his back to the mirror and craned his neck to see himself. Sure enough, there were six burns. Small though they were, it looked as though his skin was melted...and it looked as though every other inch of skin was covered in bruises. They weren't serious bruises; he could tell that by the coloring...and the fact that they weren't causing him any _physical_ discomfort. Their presence, however, was extremely troublesome because it would make a lot more sense if he could remember being beaten.

"McGee?" Tony asked hesitantly.

Tim looked away from the mirror. "I don't remember this, Tony. I don't remember any of it. How could I not remember?"

"Amnesia?" Tony suggested lamely.

Tim returned his gaze to his back. "Doesn't amnesia usually entail missing blocks of time? Not...not..._fake_ memories."

"...uh...true...but...maybe...you were hypnotized and given false memories of the weekend."

Tim blinked and looked back at Tony who was wearing a sheepish smile.

"Hey, anything's possible at this point."

Tim finally relaxed a little and laughed. "True enough. I feel like I've stumbled into the realm of science fiction."

Tony held out his shirt. "Me, too. You're blinding me, McGee. Please, put this back on."

Tim blushed and took his shirt, but he was laughing. Tony drove him crazy on a regular basis but he was always there when needed.

_...too much light...too much...burning..._

"Probie? McGee?" Tony asked. Tim had stopped in the middle of doing up his shirt and his eyes were wide open and staring blindly.

_...all around...no escape...just the pain...just the burning...melting in the light..._

"Tim? Come on, man, snap out of it!" Tony said, shaking Tim a little.

Then, Tim was back. "Whoa, that was weird," he said.

"You're not kidding...what was that? You went all...glassy on me."

"Did I? I'm sorry. I had these...these _dreams_ this weekend. They're really weird, I'm in a desert; then, I'm in the snow. There's always light everywhere. It's kind of disturbing."

"The desert?"

"Yeah. Weird," Tim said shrugging. "Maybe my subconscious is telling me that I went to the Sahara...and Antarctica. All things considered, it wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Right, McGee. I'll keep that in mind," Tony said and laughed as they walked out of the bathroom, relieved that Tim hadn't had a meltdown.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Abby?" Gibbs asked a few minutes later.

"Well, can't tell you much, Gibbs. Tim's bodily fluids are clean," Abby said, her eyes fixing Tim with a stare than made him blush again. He still hated the idea of Abby handling...those things. "If he _was_ drugged this weekend, he's metabolized whatever they gave him."

"So where does that leave...me?" Tim asked.

"Staying here, for one thing," Gibbs said.

"Here? What do you mean?"

"You were kidnaped this weekend, McGee. We have no idea why, how, by whom, or if they're still after you. Until we know _something_, you're going to be sleeping here."

Tim started to protest, but Gibbs overrode him.

"Ducky wants to look you over once more before the end of the day; so make sure you do that. In the meantime, you're going to the hospital."

"Why?"

"To make sure that there's no permanent damage...from whatever happened to you." Tim looked rebellious. "No arguments. I don't like not knowing what's going on. The more information we have, the better. Speaking of which...I still don't have your final report on the Morris case."

"I'll get right on that, Boss," Tim said...and then hesitated. "Right after I go to the hospital."

Gibbs smiled at the addition. "Ziva will take you over...and before you both ask, yes, that's necessary. Until we ascertain the level of the threat, you, McGee, are considered in danger. So get going."

Tim and Ziva both left, both looking a bit disgruntled.

"So, where does that leave us, Abby?"

"Some drugs show up in hair. I could test that."

"Do it. Tony..."

"We're going to retrace his steps, right?"

Gibbs nodded. "Call his publisher first and verify that he didn't go to that opera. Then, we'll see what he might have been doing in that garage." He had a feeling this wasn't over, that it was just the beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Saturday morning 8:25 a.m._

_Voices...yelling...demanding...shouting in his head..._

Tim's vision was blurred. It had taken a lot of effort, but he had managed to determine that it was not the world that had gone blurry, just his vision. The light seemed to be burning a hole in his brain and he couldn't think. Just making that one decision had taxed his mind beyond its current capacity.

He was burning again...burning from the light...from every side. He stood and swayed, searching for a release...for something that would pull him out of this...unending torment.

_Where is he?_

Tim looked around. Where had the evil shadows gone? He was alone, but there were still voices.

_Answer! Look!_

Tim looked...and suddenly, there was a face in front of him. Small and blurry. There were words beside the face. Tim couldn't focus on them. They looked like little bugs swarming all over...then the bugs were on him. Crawling all over his skin..._under_ his skin. He looked away from the face and down at his arms, batting furiously at them, trying to get rid of the bugs. He shrieked as the bugs swarmed up and down his skin. In a panic, he began to run.

_Get him! Stop him!_

He ran and ran...and then was suddenly stopped. He collided with a solid wall of light and rebounded, falling heavily to the ground. He scrabbled uselessly against the light, searching for freedom, for an escape. There was nothing. He screamed wordlessly. Then, came the pain again and he fell down, clawing at his back.

Then, the evil shadows were there, distorted and black as always...monsters. They grabbed him in their evil claws, held him down. Tim fought them...forgetting the bugs in the effort to keep the shadows from eating him. Pain...in his arm...incoming unconsciousness...the bugs faded away...as did everything else...except for the light...that followed him everywhere.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Monday evening, 10:30 p.m._

Tim sat forlornly at his desk. Tony, Ziva and Abby had all left for the night. They were exhausted after their weekend...looking for _him_...and needed a break. Tim had watched them leave, wistfully wishing he was going with them. Abby had kindly given him permission to use her futon. It was appreciated, but still...it wasn't his bed. The doctors at the hospital had pronounced him in general good health...except for a low blood-sugar level and slight dehydration, both easily remedied. The low blood pressure, the tachycardia, all seemed to have fixed themselves. There also seemed to be no internal damage from...whatever had been done to him.

_A sharp burst of light...digging into his brain..._

Tim jumped and looked around. The bullpen was dim, the main lights out. It wasn't as thought he were really alone in the building. The night shift was on duty, Gibbs was...somewhere, but with his friends gone, it seemed as though no one was left. He sighed and headed down to the lab. He smiled when he saw that Abby had set up the futon for him. As he lay down, unanswered questions ran through his mind. No one remembered seeing Tim at the garage where he had left his phone...and most likely his car. They had no idea where to look either. Tim wouldn't have been surprised if he had gone somewhere by himself. It wasn't as though he had a large circle of friends. He had a few outside of work, but generally speaking he was kind of a loner. It didn't bother him either. It was just that now, with his whole recent past up in the air, it would have been easier to figure out what had happened if he were...well, more like Tony. He closed his eyes...

_Hot...burning...pain...light..._

Tim sat up abruptly, feeling the futon, checking for some change in the temperature. There was nothing different from when he had laid down. For some reason, he really didn't like being on the floor.

"You're being ridiculous," he told himself and firmly resettled on the futon. There was nothing to hurt him here. He lay on his back and tried to relax. He _was_ tired. Again, his eyes closed...

_Danger...evil...black...run!...light..._

Tim sat up again, his heart racing. He looked around the lab. It was as innocuous as ever...more innocuous really. There was the distinct lack of Abby's music which should have made it all more comforting. It didn't. Tim rubbed his hand nervously over the small burns on his back. Unaccountably, he shivered.

_Light...but cold...so cold that it burned...no protection...no escape...just pain..._

Tim wrapped his arms around himself and then realized that he wasn't really cold. He didn't know why, but there was no way he'd be getting any sleep tonight if he stayed on Abby's futon. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, regaining some semblance of calm.

"Okay...not sleeping here. Where else should I go?" Tim said aloud. He was sure there were cots somewhere in the building, but he didn't know where... and he didn't want to ask anyone. There were the autopsy tables down in Ducky's domain...but the stainless steel filled Tim with a different kind of dread. So those were out. "Okay, my desk it is." Tim pulled himself off the floor with a feeling of relief that was far too intense. "Maybe I really _am_ going crazy."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tuesday morning 2:00 a.m._

"McGee!"

The harsh voice pulled Tim out of the comforting dark haze that had enveloped his mind. The light was gone for the moment, and he had been able to forget the insanity that had taken over his life.

"McGee!" A stinging slap accompanied the voice this time.

_Gibbs. Great. What have I done now?_ Tim thought and opened his eyes. He looked up and saw Gibbs looming over him, looking annoyed. Tim felt he was far too familiar with that expression being directed at him.

"Yes, Boss?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Gibbs asked.

"Sleeping? ...or at least that's what I _was_ doing," Tim said. He looked at his watch as he sat up. _Great. This is going to be a fun night._

"Why are you sleeping at your desk? I thought Abby offered you her futon."

"She did," Tim answered uncomfortably.

"And you're not using it because..."

Tim tried to think of a way to say it that would _not_ make him sound like a wuss. Nothing came to mind. "I just...didn't want to sleep on the floor."

"Too good for that, are you?" Gibbs asked, his eyebrows raised.

"No."

"Then, why, McGee?"

If Gibbs kept asking, Tim knew he would eventually have to explain that, like a baby, he was having nightmares. Of course, if he gave in to Gibbs' obvious annoyance, he'd probably end up actually shouting like he had earlier.

_What to do?_ he thought and then grasped on a possibility: change the topic. "Boss, this really seems unnecessary."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because...I'm _here_! I'm at NCIS, not tied up in a little room somewhere."

"Is that where you were this weekend, McGee?" Gibbs asked, drily.

"I don't _know_, Boss. I wasn't lying earlier. I don't _know_, and I really hate not knowing, but why would they...whoever _they_ are...why would they take me and let me go if they weren't...done?"

Gibbs looked at him intently. Tim shifted a little. He wondered if Gibbs could tell what he'd been trying to do. "What if you just got away and they're still looking for you?"

Tim smiled ruefully. "I got away...and the first thing I did was go to my apartment and write fifteen pages of gibberish? How much sense does _that_ make?"

"That's the whole _point_, McGee. _None_ of this makes sense. You were kidnaped; we don't know why. You were released; we don't know why. You were beaten in some way, but not badly enough to do permanent or even especially lasting damage; we don't know why. All we know is that something happened that made you forget everything. Does that sound to you like it's over?"

Tim shrugged. "I honestly have no idea what to think about it, Boss. I'm the one who lost three days. If I can't go home...couldn't I at least go to a hotel...someplace with a bed...?" Tim bit off the last phrase he'd been ready to utter: _off of the floor_.

"What's wrong with the floor, McGee?" Gibbs asked, bringing the conversation full circle.

"I..." Tim met Gibbs' blue eyes and winced. There was no way he'd be able to lie, not with Gibbs staring at him like that. _At least, Tony's not here._ "I...think...it's because of the nightmares I think I had this weekend."

"You think?"

"Well...considering the fact that I have no idea exactly_ what_ happened this weekend, these nightmares could just be a part of my fake memories."

"What are they?"

Tim shrugged, trying to be casual about the sinister dreams that had taken over his subconscious mind. "I don't really remember a lot of details, Boss...but they're just dreams. Why does it matter?"

"Maybe they're what really happened to you," Gibbs suggested.

Tim laughed. "I doubt it."

"Why so certain?"

"Because...what I _do_ remember involves me being in a desert _and_ in some sort of frozen wasteland. So unless you think that I was somehow transported to those locations over the course of the weekend, I doubt they have any basis in reality." Tim yawned. "Boss, it's really early. If I can't leave, can't I just go back to sleep?"

"What's in your dreams, McGee?" Gibbs asked, not being put off.

Tim tried not to be frustrated, but it was really hard. It was two in the morning; he was tired; he'd apparently had a crappy weekend; he wasn't allowed to go home; and now, Gibbs wouldn't even let him sleep. It was enough to erode even Tim's latent...fear...respect for his boss.

"I told you. I'm in a desert. I'm in...somewhere cold. I get frightened. There's all these dark...shadows, but everything else is light. The light is the worst thing because it's everywhere. There's no shade. That's it. I don't really remember more than that."

"That's enough to make you afraid of sleeping on the floor?"

Tim blushed. He should have known better than to think that he could fool Gibbs. "I guess so."

To his great surprise, Gibbs didn't say anything else. He just straightened and walked away, leaving Tim to stare after him. Gibbs was almost on the elevator when Tim suddenly had a thought...

"Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"Why...did you wake me up? Was there something you needed?"

"The hospital called. Morris woke up."

Tim stood. "He what?"

"Morris woke up."

_Where is he? Tell me where he is!_

Tim shook his head to clear it. "Is he...talking?"

"Not yet. We'll probably go and see what's left of his brain tomorrow...or rather today. Good night, McGee."

"Good night, Boss," Tim said vaguely and watched the elevator doors close. Gone was any thought of sleep. Morris was awake! With him awake, that changed everything. They could maybe get some real answers instead of Tim's own conjecture. They had no motive, just overwhelming evidence that Morris had been the hacker. When they had confronted him, he had run...out into the street. Now...he was awake. Tim sat back down at his computer and began to go over his report. He knew that Gibbs had been unsatisfied with the way the case had ended up...well, so had Tim to tell the truth. Morris was a geek, like him, with no criminal record until now. He'd had a few friends, but had started alienating them in the past few months, preferring to stay home...and hack into base records, and NCIS records and any database he could. Tim couldn't figure out _why_ he'd done it. Of course, for any skilled computer geek, the temptation was there, but generally, it was funneled into more appropriate...more _legal_ pursuits, especially when one was a member of the US Navy.

He read and reread the material...but eventually, sleep caught up to him and dragged him down, mostly unprotesting, into unconsciousness once more.

_Pain...light...unending...claws...shadows..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Saturday evening, 9 p.m._

Unintelligible voices...talking...about him...he thought. Too much effort to decipher them. It was cold...he shook violently and pulled himself off the floor again. He looked around, expecting to see...something different. It wasn't. Brighter than the sun...cold though. A cold sun...that still burned... The room spun dizzily and he staggered, trying to remain upright, trying to find some measure of warmth. A very small part of his brain was desperately wishing that he'd just stayed home...

Distorted voices...a face, blurry...evil..._pain_...He fell to the floor once more, writhing...the face again.

_I asked you a question!_

He stared up at the face...and slowly, ever so slowly, the meaning of the words came through.

"Question?" he whispered...and then was surprised that the sound came from his lips.

_Where?_

The face would not go away. He stared at it and then...remembered.

"G-Gone...t-too late..." he said quietly.

_Gone? What does that mean?_

A flash of pain, so much less than the previous burning pains that he barely noticed it.

What was he trying to say? Tim fought against the fuzziness and won...briefly. Nothing was in focus, but he could try to speak...

"W-We...f-found h-him...he..." Tim trailed off and his eyes began to wander. Another flash of pain brought his eyes back. "...too late..."

_I guess you'll have to do then._

...and then, he was burning again...burning in the cold.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tuesday morning 10:30 a.m._

"Please, Boss! This is _my_ case," Tim said. "I can't just _stay_ around here...no matter what happened. It's not like I'm going to be walking around by myself." _It's not like anyone would let me,_ he added silently.

"_Your_ case? I was under the impression that we _all_ worked on this case, Probie," Tony said.

Tim turned from Gibbs to Tony. "You know what I mean. Morris...he's like me. I _understand_ him _and_ what he did. It makes more sense, Boss," Tim said turning back to Gibbs. "I did most of the leg work on this one."

Gibbs looked from Tim to Tony. It was certainly true that this case would have proceeded much more slowly without Tim's expertise. That, naturally, had given him a feeling of...priority, and yet, there was still the problem of Tim's disappearance and subsequent _re_appearance that made him unaccountably nervous. However, Tim _was_ right that they couldn't just keep him locked up in NCIS for the rest of his life.

"Okay, McGee. Go ahead..." Tim nodded vigorously and grabbed his bag. "...and McGee?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Don't go wandering around by yourself."

Gibbs nearly grinned as he watched Tim try _not_ to roll his eyes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Tim walked up to the counter at the hospital and waited for the attention of the nurse on duty. She didn't appear to be watching for anyone at all.

"Excuse me," Tim said politely.

"You're excused," the nurse replied without looking up.

Tim and Tony looked at each other and then at the nurse as she lifted her head marginally.

"What can I do for you?"

Tony recovered first. "We're looking for Dr. Davidson."

"His office is down the hall, second door on your left. He may or may not be in there at the moment as he could be on his rounds." Then, her head was back down at its previous level.

"Thank you," Tim said as he and Tony started down the hall.

"Don't mention it," came the voice behind them.

"Weird," Tim commented.

"I kind of liked her," Tony said.

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Very patiently, Tim explained, "She is female. She is not ugly. Therefore..."

Tony punched Tim on the arm. "Thanks, Probie."

"Anytime," Tim said grinning. His smile faded when he noticed Tony watching him more closely...looking for...what? Signs of an impending breakdown? "Knock it off, Tony."

"What?"

"You're staring. I lost a couple of days. I didn't lose my mind," Tim said and then strode ahead and knocked on Dr. Davidson's office door.

"Come in!"

Tony didn't get a chance to retort as the two of them entered the office. He settled for filing the comment away for future discussion.

"Can I help you?"

"Dr. Davidson. I'm Agent McGee from NCIS."

"Oh, yes. I thought you would be stopping by today. I wish I had better news."

"I thought Morris was awake," Tony said, shaking Dr. Davidson's hand. "Agent DiNozzo."

"He is...in a manner of speaking."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked curiously.

Davidson stood and led them out into the hall. "Come with me. I'll show you. You can _try_ to talk to him, but there's no guarantee that he'll answer...at least not with anything intelligible. His eyes are open and he is definitely showing physical responses to stimuli, but his mind appears...deeply affected by whatever happened to him."

"It was a car accident. He ran out into the street and was struck by a car," Tim said. "I know because I was there."

"Perhaps that's what brought on the coma, but the swelling is mostly gone, and physically-speaking, there is no reason for his mind to be as muddled as it is. There is something else. We're running tests now that he is awake. Hopefully, we'll find something." Davidson pushed open a door and led them into a quiet, dimly-lit room. Morris was there, eyes closed, face pale, dark circles under his eyes. Davidson looked at Tim and Tony, taking in their surprise and approached the bed. He shook Morris gently and whispered something in his ear. Morris' eyes fluttered open and he looked...first at Davidson and then at Tim. He never made it to Tony, his eyes locked on Tim, taking on a hint of fear.

"Ensign Morris?" Tim said. "You remember me? Agent Gibbs and I came to talk to you last week."

Morris remained silent, but his eyes never left Tim's face. Tim glanced at Tony once and shrugged briefly.

"Will you talk to us? We need to know who you're working for."

Still, Morris said nothing. He just stared.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" Tim asked, taking a step closer.

Morris still said nothing. He didn't even move, and Tim walked over so that he was right next to the bed.

"We want to help you, Ensign. We know that you were passing the information to someone else, that it wasn't just you."

Davidson had an expression on his face which clearly said _I tried to warn you_, but before any words could be spoken, Morris suddenly sat up and grabbed Tim's jacket. He pulled Tim over onto the bed and began to whisper in his ear. Before Tony could move to help or Davidson could pull Morris back, Tim jerked away, his face pale, his breathing heavy as though he had just run a marathon. Morris, in the meantime, fell back on the bed and began to seize violently. Davidson spared Tim a single glance to be sure that he was all right and then pushed the call button by Morris' bed.

"I'll need you to leave," he said abruptly. "If there's any news, I'll let you know." Then, the door burst open and a crash team hurried into the room. Tim and Tony left the room quickly, but they didn't make it very far. Tim took two steps into the hall and then had to lean against the wall, still gasping.

"What's the matter, Probie? Morris choke you?" Tony asked, only half-kidding.

Tim didn't answer, one hand on the wall as if it was all that was holding him up, still breathing too hard.

"McGee, are you okay?" Tony was worried enough that he actually put out a hand. Tim immediately straightened and brushed it away.

"I'm fine. He just...took me by surprise is all," Tim said, wondering at the same time _why_ Morris' words had filled him with such terror. He knew that Tony would ask; so he tried to forestall the question. "I didn't think he'd be able to move at all. He sure didn't seem like he could."

"No, that's true. He didn't. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing much," Tim hedged. "It didn't really make sense."

"What?"

Tim shrugged and tried not to show how much the words had frightened him. He didn't even want to repeat them, but if he refused, Tony would realize that something was wrong and would start to scrutinize him even more.

"He just said that...he can still see it."

"See what?"

"I don't know, Tony," Tim said. "He didn't bother to elaborate. I told you it didn't make any sense." He resumed his walk down the hall. "I guess we're not going to get much out of him right now."

"That was really astute, McGee. I'm glad to see that you've learned something in your years of experience."

Tim rolled his eyes and didn't bother to make the obvious retort. He kept walking, his mind dwelling uncomfortably on Morris' words...not only his words, but the tone with which he had relayed his final thought. It hadn't been insanity...not exactly. Tim felt certain that should he ever be confronted with total insanity, he'd recognize it, and Morris, while definitely missing a few screws, had not been insane. Tim had seen it in his eyes. Morris had been terrified...the same feeling that Tim had when he had said the words. _See what? What can he still see? Why do I seem to know what he means? I _don't_ know what he means, but something...seems familiar._ Tim continued to mull over it, getting into the car without paying any attention. He didn't even notice the many glances Tony was giving him as they drove back to NCIS. Tim only came out of his contemplation when his phone rang.

"This is Agent McGee," he said. "I see. Do you–? I see. Thank you, Doctor." He hung up and looked at Tony. "Morris is back in his coma. His heart stopped and now he's on life support. They don't know why. He'll let us know if there's any change."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I wonder..." Tim looked out the window and didn't finish.

"Wonder what?"

"What he meant...Morris, I mean. What could he see?"

"Ya got me. He looked pretty out of it. He was probably just crazy."

"I don't think he was," Tim said, not really talking to Tony anymore. "He didn't _sound_ crazy. He...he was trying to tell me something. I just don't know what it is."

"...or he could just be crazy," Tony repeated.

Tim nodded, but his face showed a distinct lack of agreement on that score. Tony didn't try to press the point.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tuesday night 7 p.m._

Tim was feeling uncommonly annoyed, and for once, he wasn't trying to hide it...not even from Gibbs.

"The biggest danger I'm in right now is getting another crick in my neck from sleeping at my desk, Boss. We have _no_ evidence that whatever happened to me is going to be repeated."

"We have no evidence that it _won't_ be either, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim sighed in frustration. "Boss...I'll lock the door to my apartment. I'll sleep with my gun under my pillow. Heck, I'll even stay in a hotel if it will make you feel better. Please, I don't want to spend another night here!"

"Until we have more information, McGee, you're not spending your time alone. That's final!"

"He can stay with me," Ziva said into the momentary pause. Her statement was followed by a kind of awed silence. Tim's face immediately reddened and Gibbs just blinked. "I have a spare bed...which McGee does not in his apartment. I am quite capable of defending McGee from the people who may be after him."

Tim flushed. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, Ziva...even if I thought it was necessary...but if it will get me out of here, I'd even stay with Tony."

"Hey!" Tony said, putting on a hurt face.

Tim didn't reply. He looked back at Gibbs. "Boss?"

"Fine, but you're not to be alone, McGee."

Tim held back another annoyed reply. This was worse than being treated like a child. He was being treated like a weakling. Tony kept looking at him. Abby had refused to let him out of her sight when he and Tony had come back from the hospital, until he had begged her to stop, and now Gibbs was dictating where he _slept_. He appreciated that they were all concerned for him, but this all seemed like overkill.

"Are you ready then, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Uh...yeah," Tim said and grabbed his bag. "See you tomorrow."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tuesday evening 10 p.m._

"You may sleep in here, McGee. It is not your home, but it is at least a bed," Ziva said.

"You know, Ziva, I could just go. My place isn't very far..." Tim said, looking at the bed. It wasn't bad. It really wasn't...and it was much more comfortable than his desk. It was just that...well, as Ziva had said, it wasn't his home...and he was with _Ziva_. While he definitely would trust her with his life, there was no denying that she still had the power to make him nervous and awkward.

"No," she said with definite finality.

"Why not?"

"Because, McGee, while _you_ do not think you are in danger, _I_ do."

Tim turned from his examination of the bed. "Why? I'm here. I'm fine."

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Well, no but–"

"Do you remember who took you?"

"No, but–"

"Do you have any idea why someone would wish to harm you?"

"No."

Ziva pierced him with a her fierce gaze. "McGee, I do not think you appreciate what we all went through this weekend. I do not think Tony slept at all. None of us did. We did not leave NCIS from the time Tony called Gibbs to report what he heard on the phone until we left on Monday. We searched and searched, and we could not find you. You had disappeared. I know that you do not remember that, but we do. You have no frightening memories at this point; we do. You have only the fake memories planted in your brain. We have many hours of desperately looking for clues that did not exist. Accept that we cannot dismiss those days as easily you." She took two steps and pointed. "The bathroom is that way. I am sure you remember from when you last came. Good night, McGee." Then, she strode away, leaving Tim still standing in the doorway.

Slowly, Tim walked over to the bed and sat down on it. Yes, it was comfortable, but somehow that wasn't an issue at the moment. For some reason, even though he'd heard pretty much the same things from everyone else, hearing it from Ziva...so baldly...made it real. Too real. The fact that, for nearly three days, no one, including him, had known where he was suddenly became worrisome.

_Hot...cold...hands...pulling...pain...light..._

Tim jumped as he rejoined the real world. He sighed and leaned over, resting his arms on his knees. _Missing days, strange dreams, Morris, those marks...what's happening to me?_ He knew he wouldn't suddenly know everything just because he'd asked the question, but he couldn't really explain how odd it felt that he had lost time when he didn't _feel_ like he did. Every minute was accounted for in his memory...only it wasn't real. With another sigh he stood and walked into the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. He didn't speak with Ziva again that night.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday 3:57 a.m._

Ziva opened her eyes, instantly wide awake. She didn't know what had awakened her, but she had learned long ago not to dismiss these warnings. Pulling her gun from under her pillow, she quietly crept out of her bedroom and headed straight for the spare bedroom. Tim wasn't there. She nearly panicked, thinking he had been taken again and had simply disappeared...on her watch.

Then, she heard a noise from the bathroom. Immediately, she turned and just as silently approached the closed door. She opened it quickly and aimed at the figure standing in the dark.

...it was Tim. One hand was touching the mirror, the other, his face. Both eyes were open, but he didn't appear to really be seeing anything.

"McGee?" she asked, lowering her gun in relief.

Tim slowly moved the hand that was touching his face onto the mirror. He continued to shift his fingers around the mirror.

"McGee? What are you doing?"

"I can't see. I can't see," Tim said in a strange flat voice.

Ziva reached over to the light switch and flipped it on. The effect of this simple act was instantaneous.

"Not the light! Not the light!" Tim shrieked and covered his face with his arms. "Too bright!"

"I'm sorry, McGee," Ziva said and quickly turned it back off.

Tim stopped shrieking but began to sway. "I don't know...can't see," he mumbled, his voice becoming less intelligible.

"Why don't you just go back to bed, McGee? You can...finish in the morning," Ziva suggested, rather weirded out by this strange behavior. She reached out and grabbed his arm, lightly directing him back to his bed. He followed docilely.

"Why did I go? Why did I go? I didn't want to. I did. I should have..." Tim said vaguely as Ziva pushed him down onto the bed. He did not resist and as soon as he was lying down again, his eyes closed and he was asleep.

Ziva watched him for a few minutes, but he appeared to have really fallen asleep and was making no move to begin walking around again. She was no longer tired in the slightest and so she pulled a chair into the room and sat on it, prepared to spend what was left of the night making sure that Tim remained where he was.

_Shadows...faces...claws...voices...pain...hot...light..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Sunday morning 4:30 a.m._

He couldn't breathe...it was too hot...his mouth was dry...his throat was dry...he grabbed at his throat, choking, starving for air...the shadows...they were all around him..._pain_...as he tried to stop it, he threw himself against the wall...he screamed...the pain did not ebb. For the first time, it did not just go away, leaving him limp. It was sustained...

_Do you want to stop the pain?_

One of the shadows leaned over, a claw...a _hand_? ...reached out to him. He tried to get away, all the while screaming in agony.

_Do you want to stop the pain?_

_Meaning...words have meanings...words mean something...what do they mean? _It seemed vital that he think beyond the pain, beyond the light to the words being spoken.

_Do you want to stop the pain?_

"YES!" he shrieked.

_Will you do anything to stop the pain?_

Again...meanings...words...questions..._pain...oh, stop the pain..._

_Will you do anything to stop the pain?_

"YES!" he screamed again. The pain stopped. The lights went out. Perfect darkness. Perfect silence. Alone in the dark...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday morning, 6:30 a.m._

Ziva still watched Tim as he slept. He had not moved once during the two and a half hours, except to roll over. Ziva herself had dozed once or twice, but never for long. The slightest movement from Tim, the softest sound, brought her awake again, ready to confront another sleepwalking incident. She watched in amusement as Tim's eyes opened, sagged closed and then flew open again.

"Ziva! What are you doing in here?" Tim asked, sitting up quickly, pulling the blankets up with him.

"Watching you sleep."

"Why?"

"Because of your wanderings."

"My what?"

"Do you not remember?" Ziva asked, trying to discern whether or not Tim was just being difficult.

"Remember what?" Tim asked, afraid now that he had lost another day. "Today's Wednesday...isn't it?"

"Yes, it is Wednesday, but you were walking around early this morning. You do not remember?"

Tim shook his head. "I didn't do anything...embarrassing, did I?"

"No, merely strange. You said you could not see and when I turned on the light, you screamed at me because the lights were too bright. Then, when I led you back to your bed, you said that you should not have gone, that you did not want to. What did you mean by it?"

Tim shrugged. "I have no idea. Your guess is... probably better than mine."

"I do not know. It could just be a dream..."

"But it could also be something else," Tim finished, looking disturbed. Distracted, he got out of bed and walked by Ziva to the bathroom.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday afternoon, 2:07 p.m._

Ducky got off the elevator and approached Tim's desk. Everyone was gone...somewhere, but Ducky didn't really need to talk to any of them at the moment. Gibbs had mentioned Tim's gibberish, and Ducky wanted a look at it. There they were, neatly organized in a folder. He took them out and began to peruse the contents. Yes, it _was_ gibberish...almost. Ducky smiled and began to scan through the pages, looking for what he had found once...and he found it again...and again...on every page, at least once, sometimes twice.

"Ducky, what brings you up here?" Gibbs asked from behind him.

"I was merely looking at Timothy's writing."

"Why?"

"You looked at it, didn't you, Jethro?" Ducky asked.

"Yes. It's nothing."

"Not quite." He held out a random page. "Look and tell me what you see."

Gibbs took the page and looked.

_alkawoeoim as9ra a;lkdjfaio ' lksjdoi892 adj 8023rj aklf a098e8u tark light iowe834 alkj'j askldjf a8i3498a .,.,cmv ao34kj dsa;kj '234km5 ,smf 8325'kdsmf 832kjatk dflko324j dkg 34kt fgkla;kjgf 2j ear afgkjaer834m,erkaklj'kl 4k34–a, 2p-a''; aksdkfm,e dkqm,z.dx,.m.'23 qdv '1kemazk aklfj34j v asklf3'4klja 4jkl34'q344mm rgi99mv,w'a4t_

"It's just the same as before: random letters and numbers."

"No, it's not, Jethro. Look at the first line again. There _is_ something in there."

"Are you telling me that this is some sort of code?"

Ducky laughed. "No. The bulk of this writing is most definitely random, but not all of it."

Gibbs looked again. "Light?"

"Yes, exactly. I found that word on every single page, at least once. Sometimes twice. You said that Timothy has shown a measure of anxiety about light."

"Only when he's waking up."

"But seeing as his conscious memory has proven unreliable in revealing what happened to him, perhaps it is his _un_conscious memory we should be examining."

"He told me that he's in a desert and in the snow in his dreams. The only thing that is the same is the light and he told me that he hates that."

"But, Jethro, if he was truly drugged, if he was given some sort of anticholinergic agent, it is entirely possible that even his perception of the experience was skewed by whatever drug he was given. He could have been _anywhere_ and thought he was in a desert...or a snowfield. It depends entirely on what he _thought_ was happening to him."

"Then, why doesn't he remember those skewed memories? Why does he have memories that didn't really happen?"

"Who knows? We have so little to go by. No one saw him taken. No one saw his return. He himself remembers nothing."

"Tony and Ziva are trying to find something more. I just sent McGee and Abby to search his car, look for fingerprints, hair." Gibbs paused as a thought struck him. "Ducky, we wouldn't even have known that McGee was missing if Tony hadn't been on the phone with him. None of this would even be happening." Then, Gibbs' phone began ringing. He answered. "Gibbs." He looked at Ducky, his expression very serious. "When? How? Yes, I understand. Thank you, Dr. Davidson." He hung up. "Morris died about an hour ago. Dr. Davidson said that his body just shut down. They're going to send the body to you for autopsy."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday afternoon, 3:00 p.m._

"Tim, this is a very nice car," Abby said, trailing her fingers down the sleek lines of Tim's Porsche.

"You know, Abby, I could do this myself. There's probably nothing to find."

"You seem nervous," Abby said grinning. "Why is that?"

Tim tried not to look as concerned as he was. "Because...the last time you examined something valuable of mine, it came back to me ruined."

"That was only a jacket, McGee."

"It cost me two thousand dollars, Abby."

"Which you probably never even noticed."

"Just because I make a lot of money, doesn't mean that I want to throw it away!"

Abby gestured at the car and then at Tim's clothes.

"These are going to last me a long time...provided you don't remove vital components."

Abby waved her hand vaguely in the air. "You worry too much, Tim. I won't hurt your car. All I'm doing is checking for prints and DNA."

"Yeah...well, all you were doing last time was checking for radiation...and I ended up with a monster swatch cut out of my jacket."

"It wasn't monster," Abby replied as she began to search the car.

"It was bigger than my hand."

"Old history, Tim. This is about _you_ not remembering what you did. This is not about your car."

"That car is worth more than I am," Tim said. "I could insure it for a lot more than I could insure myself. Just don't cut any swatches."

"All right, all right."

The two lapsed into mutual silence then and began to collect evidence. Abby was fishing under the seat when she heard a loud _thunk_, followed by a soft _ow_.

"What happened?"

"The Four Seasons!" Tim said, rubbing his head after hitting it on the roof of the car.

"What?"

Tim stood up and began to pace back and forth, forcing Abby to get out of the car as well and stare at him.

"The Four Seasons."

"That ritzy hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue?"

"No..." Tim trailed off for a moment as he considered the suggestion. "...I don't _think_ so anyway. No, Vivaldi! You know..." he hummed a few bars from the _Spring_ Allegro. "Vivaldi!"

"What about it?"

Tim stopped pacing. "It has something to do with what happened this weekend. ...something..."

_...cold...hard...pain...run...panic!_

"Tim?"

Tim's eyes glazed over for a few seconds and then he was back. "It's...I was...listening? I..._saw_ it?"

"Are you asking me?" Abby asked hesitantly.

"No," Tim said absently. "I'm asking myself." He began to pace again, talking mostly to himself. "It wasn't a big production. I didn't dress up really, just a nicer jacket. And...we..."

"Who's we?"

"There's..." Tim's hand moved to the base of his neck and he rubbed his fingers over the electrical burns. "...someone...a..." _A smiling face, laughing. Small hands, holding...a rose?_ "...a woman...I think. I was on a date?"

"A _date_?"

Abby's tone of voice pulled Tim out of his reverie. He looked at her with an expression bordering on frustration, but he didn't respond.

"...but I...was by myself in the garage...maybe it didn't go well?" The images swirled up from the depths of his mind giving him a strange sense of dislocation as he analyzed a memory that was cloudy and full of gaps. All the while he was rubbing the base of his neck. "...and then..." He paced a few more times. "...and then..." Nothing more came. In frustration, he swore and kicked a nearby chair. "_Why_ can't I remember? Why is it that when I try to think about the weekend all that comes clearly is something that _didn't happen?_"

Abby ran around the car and grabbed one of Tim's arms. "Hey! Calm down!"

Tim stopped moving but he was clearly agitated. "Abby...it's...surreal. It feels like I'm trying to remember a dream...but it's...not. It's what really happened. Why can't I remember?"

"Tim...I'll finish up here. Why don't you take a break?"

Tim shook his head emphatically. "No. I'm fine."

Abby laughed. "You're _not_ fine. That little vein throbbing in your forehead tells me that you're not fine. Go on. Take a break. There's not much left to do, just the trunk."

"Abby..."

Abby stomped her foot. "No arguments. Go!" She pointed imperiously at the elevator.

"Fine." Tim walked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday afternoon 3:30 p.m._

"Morris is dead?" Tim asked incredulously.

"He died a couple of hours ago," Gibbs said.

"Of what?"

"They're not sure. Ducky should be getting the body tomorrow and he'll do the autopsy."

_...too late...too late..._

"McGee?" The name came from very far away.

_...you'll have to do..._

"McGee!"

_...burning in the light..._

Tim suddenly collapsed, shrieking. "Stop! Stop! No!"

Gibbs knelt beside him calling his name, but making no impression on Tim who was now writhing with remembered pain.

"Burning! I'm burning!"

"Gibbs, what's going on?"

Gibbs looked up and saw Lovitz and his entire team hovering.

"I don't know. Call an ambulance."

"Lara!" Lovitz ordered.

"On it!"

All the while, Tim continued to scream and writhe...

_...pain...the pain...stop the pain..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Sunday night 9:07 p.m._

The darkness continued. He felt so weak, so broken that he didn't even try to move. His body twitched and jerked on its own, protests against the treatment it had suffered. Something had just happened, he had done something, but he couldn't remember what it was. He didn't really care. He just lay on the ground in the...nothingness that surrounded him. There was one thought running through his mind, one semi-coherent thought: _I wish I had stayed home._ It brought with it images of his typical weekend. It was comforting in the darkness, the emptiness, to think of those uneventful days...when all around him threatened only more pain.

Then..._light_! It was so bright that he cried out and covered his eyes. He began to sob, pitiful cries that shook his whole body. He knew the torture would resume. How could it not? Then, a hand groped for his arm again, pulled it roughly down and he felt another prick. He fell into unconsciousness once more, pushed to the limit again by the burning pain...

..._Run, Timmy. Run..._

The voice was somehow easier to understand, but he didn't understand _what_ was meant.

A hard kick in the small of his back and he fell...onto...something hard...cold...rough...

_Run, Timmy. Run away._

The mocking tone was frightening. Tim pushed himself onto his hands and knees with shaking arms. Another kick forced him down again. Sickening laughter.

_Poor little Timmy._

Tim pulled himself up to his feet, his vision still blurry. Dark shadows approached him again, forcing him back...and back...against..._brick_?

_Run..._

Tim obeyed. He began to run, not knowing where he was going. He only wanted to be away. He ran as one does in dreams, endlessly and without thought. Every time he looked behind him, the shadows were there. He gasped for air, stumbled on rubbery legs. His heart thudded in his chest and he was filled with terror. _Home...home...home..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Thursday morning 1:30 a.m._

"Not...not the light..." Tim moaned softly.

The room full of people seemed to grow deafeningly silent, even though no one had been speaking before. As one they all turned toward the bed where Tim lay, restrained and unconscious..._finally _unconscious after literally hours of screaming about pain that seemed to have no source. His eyes remained closed and after a few minutes, the tension subsided to the tired vigilance that had reigned before. The light was dim because Tim had calmed down when the bright examination lights had been turned off. Gibbs had vehemently vetoed any suggestion to take him to the Psych ward, insisting that they would stay with him, and they had...

Now, Abby was leaning against one arm, gently stroking it, trying to coax Tim back to the land of the living...the land of the _sane_. Ziva and Tony were alternating sitting stiffly on their chairs or restlessly pacing around the room. Ducky, about an hour before, had made the only sound...the sound of papers sliding off his lap to the floor as he dozed. The blood work had come back negative for any drugs. Whatever had happened was all in Tim's head...which didn't make anyone feel any better. Gibbs was sitting still, a statue. They had talked about the possibilities. It was patently clear to everyone now...if it hadn't been before...that something horrible had happened to Tim. Abby had mentioned Tim's memory of Vivaldi and Ducky had reminded them of the light embedded in the gibberish. Ziva had talked about Tim's somnambulation. They still had no idea about any of the salient points. As Tony had noted, if they had been playing Clue, they would have been losing. They didn't know who, where, how, why. All they knew was who the victim was...and that was bad enough.

"...why do I feel like I've been run over by a truck?" came a soft, tired voice from the bed. Again, every head turned toward the bed. Tim's eyes were half open, he looked afraid...not of them; he was looking at the restraints on his arms. Without a word, Abby began to take them off. She looked around the room once, as if daring anyone to protest. No one did.

"What happened?" Tim asked. "Where am I?"

"What do you remember?" Ducky asked in return.

Tim's face crinkled in contemplation as he tried to remember. "Morris is dead," he said carefully.

"Yes."

"And then...I...I wasn't in the bullpen anymore."

"You never left, McGee," Gibbs said. "I was there the whole time."

"No...I was somewhere else. There were...shapes...monsters...talking to me." Tim didn't seem to notice the worried expressions the arose from his strange statement.

"And then?" Ducky prompted.

"Then..." Tim trailed off and watched as Abby rounded the bed and began to take off the other restraint. She hadn't spoken, nor had Tony and Ziva. "...then, I woke up here."

Ducky was about to ask another question when Tim looked at the single lamp bathing the room in a soft glow.

"The light...it was too bright. It hurt."

"A migraine?" Ducky asked, not believing that it could be so simple. ...it wasn't.

"No," Tim said, swallowing convulsively. "No...it was..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "...the light...it...I felt like...I was being burned alive." Again, he didn't notice the others' reactions. "Why was I tied down?" he whispered.

"You were screaming, Tim," Abby said quietly, finally breaking her silence. "You kept screaming about the pain and about how you were on fire. We didn't know what to do and the doctors were afraid that you would hurt yourself."

Tim looked toward the window, took in the darkness. "What time is it?"

"Nearly two in the morning," Ducky answered.

"I've been here that long?"

"Yeah. So have we, McGee," Tony said.

"The whole time?" Tim asked.

"Yes. This was much worse than watching you walk in your sleep," Ziva said. Tim looked over at her and noted that she was pale. It was strange to him to think of her being so affected.

"I'm sorry. All that...and I still can't tell you what happened." Tim lifted his newly freed arms, seeming to be amazed at how light they felt. "What's going to happen now?"

"They want to admit you for psychiatric observation, Timothy," Ducky said, trying to being diplomatic.

Tim might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He shook his head. "No. I don't want to be _committed_. There's..." He paused and then blurted out, "There's definitely something wrong with me, but I don't need to be in a..." He paled and dropped his head into his hands before he finished his sentence. "...locked in a little room."

"That's not what would happen, McGee," Gibbs said, although he didn't like the idea much either.

Tim didn't look up, but he spoke again, his voice soft, his body tense. "I don't need to be observed. We know what's wrong. Something happened to me over the weekend. I can't remember, but something in me knows, something remembers. Isn't that enough? They can't help me if I don't know what happened to me."

"They might be able to help you remember."

Tim looked from Ducky to Gibbs and around the room again. "Please, no. Not that."

The deadly serious expressions on everyone's faces made him feel like he had the time he got lost in the mall at the age of five. He had run from store to store, calling for his mother until security had found him. He hadn't been able to understand why they wouldn't let him keep looking. He knew all the stores they had gone to and he was sure his mother would be in one of them. The guards were keeping him from finding her. They had taken him to a room and stared at him seriously, asking him questions. They had been so frightening to him, with their guns and serious faces. He hadn't been able to talk to them. They had only made him cry. As much as it bothered him to even think it, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle...unless he could change the odds.

"I just want to go home," Tim said, pleading. "Please?"

"You know _that_ won't happen, McGee," Gibbs said.

In desperation, Tim sat up, focusing only on Gibbs. He knew that if he could convince Gibbs, everyone else would fall into line...and Gibbs would make the doctors listen. That was how it worked. Gibbs didn't take no for an answer.

"Boss, please. I'll do whatever you want. I'll stay at NCIS again. You can have people following me around if you want. I don't care! I just don't want to..." He stopped and tried not to sound crazy. "...go there. I don't want to be locked up." Tim knew he sounded childish, but he didn't care. He _really_ didn't want to undergo any sort of psychiatric observation. He didn't know what it entailed, but he didn't care. All he cared about was _not_ being confined. That took precedence over _everything_, including finding out what had happened to him.

"Even if that would help you find out what happened?"

"I don't care, Ducky," Tim said fervently. "I don't want to be chained to a bed, locked up in a little room...having people staring at me."

Tony couldn't resist. "Like now?"

Tim tried not to smile, but he also couldn't resist and chuckled softly. "At least I know who _you_ are. Even if I've been acting a little strange lately."

"A little?" Tony asked. "Probie, you were acting like Jack Nicholson in _The Shining_. 'Heeeere's Johnny!'"

Tim chose to continue talking about the movie rather than acknowledge Tony's observation directly. "I started chasing you guys around with an axe? Where did I get an axe?"

"Maybe you keep it in your desk."

"Is it a collapsible version?"

"It must be," Tony said and then winced as Gibbs slapped his head. "Thanks, Boss."

"McGee," Gibbs said seriously.

"Boss, if it happens again, I won't...just...let me go this time."

Gibbs considered. He looked over at Ducky who simply widened his eyes momentarily.

"Okay, McGee. In the morning."

"Okay, Boss."

"Another meltdown though..."

"It won't happen again, Boss," Tim said, hoping he was telling the truth.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Friday afternoon, 3:20 p.m._

"Ah, Jethro, I was just about to call you down," Ducky said. "How is Timothy?"

"Nearly two days, Ducky," Gibbs said. "He hasn't shown any signs."

"That is actually a little worrisome."

"Why?"

"Because I highly doubt that whatever was frightening Timothy has simply gone away. He's just better at hiding it now that he knows it's there."

"What do you suggest? He's been asking to go home again."

"Not alone, I hope."

"I think he _wishes_ it could be alone. He hasn't tried to get away from his shadows at all, but I think he'd like to."

Ducky smiled. "I don't blame him. Too much concern can be stifling."

"Nothing on Morris?"

"Oh, I must have been distracted."

"Big surprise," Gibbs muttered to himself.

"I sent some samples to Abigail, but I think the poor man was simply worn out."

"What?"

"Based on the state of his heart, his lungs, he was not taking care of himself...and Jethro..."

"What, Ducky?"

"I found something you should see." Ducky walked over to the body and carefully turned it over. "See these spots?"

Gibbs looked carefully. There were bruises, from the accident, marring his view, but... "Those look familiar."

"Yes, they should. You saw them on Timothy's back...in the same places."

Gibbs looked again. The telltale signs of electrical burns, six of them, seemed to glow on Morris' skin.

"Where's Timothy right now?"

"With Abby in the lab."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Should we risk it? They know."_

"_If it works..."_

"_They'll still know."_

"_He's better than Morris."_

"_They'll know."_

"_If we leave him out there, he might remember."_

"_What are you suggesting?"_

"_Something more permanent...after we're done with him."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim absently flipped through his Google search. These last two days had been boring, rather anticlimactic after his...whatever it had been. Everyone kept watching him and it put him on edge. Abby had gone out to get a late lunch after making him promise to stay in the lab and he was relieved to have some time alone. He was willing to bet that Gibbs would have someone follow him into the head if he put a toe out of line...so he hadn't. He had bottled up his annoyance and followed the rules. He wouldn't leave the lab. He wouldn't do anything wrong...even if he _still_ couldn't remember what had happened.

He stopped on an image. It wasn't anything he had seen and yet...somehow...it expressed what he remembered..._distorted faces...confusion..._

...then, he found another one. He lingered on it for a long time..._a person cowering in bright lights..._ He couldn't have explained _why_ these two images were right...but they were.

...then, the fire alarm went off, the lights went dim, and Tim looked around. It wasn't very dark in the lab since there were windows, but he was a little worried. Still, there were procedures to be followed. He left the computer with the two images on it and walked to the stairs to exit the building.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Friday afternoon, 4:02 p.m._

"Have you seen, McGee?" Gibbs asked, looking around, worrying twisting his gut.

"Not since the fire," Tony said. "Abby was with him."

"I wasn't, Gibbs," Abby admitted. "I went to get lunch and the alarm went off when I got back to the Yard. I never saw him come out."

"I did not see him, either," Ziva said, looking around as well. There were quite a few people milling around while the fire crew investigated the building.

Normally, they wouldn't worry. It was the Navy Yard. What harm could come to them there? But this time, they were worried. Tim would have come and found them if he were okay.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Friday??_

Tim opened his eyes. The light nearly blinded him. He looked around in confusion...and mounting terror. This was too much like the dreams he'd had. A man approached him, dressed all in black. Tim blinked in the light and tried to see his face, but he realized that the man was wearing dark glasses, probably as protection. Tim pulled himself to his feet and began to back away...he ran into someone behind him. They grabbed his arms and held him fast. He began to fight, somehow knowing exactly what was in store for him.

The man in black pulled out a syringe and Tim struggled even more, but it was no use. He couldn't move. The man holding him was much stronger. He watched in horror as the needle penetrated his skin. Then, the man in black broke his silence.

"Welcome back, Tim."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The man in black walked away and still Tim struggled against the vise-like arms that held him. Then, he was thrown violently to the floor. The man in black ripped off his shirt and Tim felt a thrill of fear as contacts were placed on some very familiar locations on his bare skin. Tim fought against the restraint. He fought because deep in his mind, the barrier that he had, in his madness, carefully constructed was fading in the face of the deja vu...and yet it wasn't exactly the same because before...by the time he had gotten to this place...he had been mostly crazy. Part of him wanted to forget still...that part was the part that was screaming that he had been writing all weekend. The problem was that Tim, in spite of his steady descent into madness, knew that it wasn't possible. The memories that were welling up, demanding attention, had to be the right ones because there was no other alternative.

_This is bad...this is really bad_, Tim thought. The man holding him down, suddenly let go and Tim didn't move in surprise. Then, he jumped up and looked around the room. He wanted to get an unjaundiced view of it before...Tim tamped down on the panic; panicking about something he couldn't change would not help matters. He had time for one brief look at the stark white room...

...before he was driven to his knees by an all-too-familiar pain. He couldn't stay silent. He screamed out his agony. As his heart rate increased, he understood, through the haze of pain, part of the reason for it. The drug...whatever it was...would circulate faster through his body. It would start to affect him sooner. Tim thought as quickly as he could because there was a chance that if he accepted all this right now he might be able to remember it later. Another surge of pain knocked him flat on his back. The pain didn't go away this time. It stayed longer...and longer, driving all coherent thought from Tim's brain. All he thought about was the pain, the unending pain. He screamed...and screamed again, grabbing hopelessly at his back, wanting to pull off the source of the pain...because right now he knew _exactly_ what was causing it.

Still, the pain continued. It seemed to last forever and Tim screamed and screamed...then, it was gone. Tim began to sob at the release. He knew he would break eventually. He would break even if they _didn't_ use the drug. The monsters, the claws, the evil shadows that he remembered were unnecessary to get him to talk. If they kept up the pain, soon he'd say whatever they wanted him to say. Why did they have to drug him as well? What was the purpose? Why had they let him go? Why had they taken him in the first place? He still couldn't remember what he had done...although he knew he had done something. He opened his eyes. The lights seemed brighter and his vision was a little blurry. He blinked to get rid of the haze. It didn't go away. Tim swallowed. Somehow, it was so much worse to _know_ that he was going crazy.

Then..._Tony! In the garage!_ Tim leapt to his feet in surprise at the crystal clear memory he had suddenly remembered. He looked around the room again. It wasn't _all_ white. There was a door. He didn't remember there being a door before...although he probably hadn't been in any fit state to notice it. _On the phone...after my date!_ Tim looked around as if he expected to see his date in there. He only just managed to keep his mouth shut. Whoever these people were, it wouldn't help his cause any to let them know that he was remembering things...not that it would matter in another few...what? Hours? Minutes? Days? He remembered that his vision had gone blurry first because those people who had been following him had been out of focus. He hadn't been able to see their faces even. When he had awoken...

_Pain!_ His thoughts were interrupted again by the burning pain. He fell to the ground once more. This time, the pain came in short bursts at irregular intervals. Two seconds...followed by five seconds of relief...ten seconds...followed by two seconds of relief...on and on for untold minutes. Through it all, Tim struggled to hold onto his sanity, but he could feel it, slowly and surely, slipping away. The lights got brighter and brighter. He began to feel too hot. The floor began to heat up. The doorway disappeared as the gleaming walls began to glow. Piercing him as the pain jolted him and left him.

_Stop...stop...stop..._ Tim's thought devolved to that one word, repeating over and over in his head. It wouldn't be long now...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Friday night, 9:00 p.m._

"How can McGee have disappeared without a trace?" Gibbs said, barely holding back his fury. It wasn't Security's fault that there seemed to be no record of Tim's disappearance. They were trying their best. They had watched Tim leave Abby's lab, walk toward an exit, but when they switched to the outdoor camera, there was nothing. Tim seemed to have disappeared...which was impossible. No one could just disappear. He had to have gone somewhere.

"Gibbs...we found..." Ziva began, but Gibbs cut her off.

Gibbs wasn't shouting, but he was very angry. This kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen. "We've found _nothing_! McGee was taken from the _Yard_! Not from his apartment, not from an empty garage. The _Yard_. He stayed here because it was supposed to be secure. Now, we find that..."

"Gibbs!" Ziva said more loudly. "We found someone who saw McGee last Friday night!"

"Who?" Gibbs asked, turning away from the security employee who heaved a sigh of relief.

"McGee did go a Vivaldi concert. It was a student production done as a fund-raiser. He did not buy the tickets. That is why we have no credit record. It was entirely staffed by volunteers who simply showed up and offered to help. One of them was a student teacher at the high school and her brother was killed the night after the concert. She has not been in contact with anyone since then. She called Tony and said that she did remember him. She is coming in now to make a statement."

Gibbs nodded. Then, he turned back. "Find something," he said.

"I'll do my best, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs turned and followed Ziva out of the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_??_

_Did he talk?_

Tim lifted his head off the floor. The shadows had taken over again. He moaned and dropped his head again. He struggled to form a coherent thought. There was something that he needed to remember.

_Did he talk?_

The lights were so bright. He couldn't get away from the lights. They seemed to burn holes into his brain, stealing the thoughts away.

_Answer me!_

Tim hadn't thought it was possible to scream anymore, but when the pain started...so did his screams.

_Answer!_

Through his shrieks, he shouted, "Yes!"

_What did he say?_

The pain didn't stop and Tim screamed and writhed on the floor. One of the shadows held him down, not even giving him the release of being able to move. ...holding him to the hot, burning floor...forcing him to see the hot, burning lights...

_What did he say?_

"I can still see it!" he screamed.

_Is that all?_

"Yes! Yes! Please! Stop!"

The pain stopped; the hands disappeared. He was safe for the moment. His eyes closed and he tried to forget the pain. ..._no, I can't forget it this time. I have to remember. I have to remember why..._

His heart rate was steadily climbing, his breathing was shallow even when he was left alone. A small part of him still understood that this was a result of the drugs, but it was swiftly being overwhelmed by the part that knew only pain and light.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Friday night, 9:45 p.m._

"Yes, that's the man I saw. He came in by himself."

"I thought you said he was with a woman," Tony said in surprise.

Alice nodded. "He was. He came _in_ by himself. She was already there waiting. I think it was some sort of blind date because he seemed to look around for a few seconds and then she waved a rose and he held up...something else. I didn't see what it was."

"Knowing McGee, it was probably something lame," Tony muttered, but his joke only served to cover his worry.

Ziva leaned forward. "Did you see them actually go in?"

"Yeah, I seated them. They were talking and seemed to be having fun."

"What about after?"

"I saw them leave after as well. I didn't _really_ pay close attention, but they seemed to be leaving separately. To be honest, I wondered if they were having an affair...or something."

"It was probably the _or something_. I can't picture McGee having an affair...with anyone," Tony said.

"Can you describe the woman?"

"Of course. She was...about...my height, 5'8" and she was wearing a little black dress. I remember that because it seemed so over-the-top for a high school production. Your Agent McGee was much more casual. She had brown hair, cut in one of those fringe styles...you know, layered and shaggy?" Tony and Ziva both nodded although they didn't think they really understood. "She was really buff, though...not masculine, but I'll bet she lifted weights pretty regularly."

"It's pretty late, Ms. Peters, but would you mind working with a sketch artist and getting a picture done?"

"You're sure he's missing?"

"Yes."

"Then, how could I do otherwise?" Tears glistened in Alice's eyes. "Losing someone is hard enough when you know right away."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Peters," Tony said.

"It's okay. Where do I need to go?"

"I will show you," Ziva said, standing up.

"Well, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked after she had gone.

"She saw McGee. He was with a girl. She's going to make a sketch, but I don't know how it's going to help."

Gibbs didn't say anything.

"Gibbs! Why aren't you down here?" Abby yelled suddenly over the camera system.

"What, Abby?"

"Your ESP is failing you! I have something! Get down here!" The camera went off.

Gibbs looked at Tony. "Well, you heard her. Let's go."

"Right, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_??_

He was cold again...and hot...and burning...and..._pain_! Tim arched his back and tried to stop the pain, but he knew he couldn't. He also knew he couldn't forget it. _Remember...remember..._

_Do it! Now!_

Tim realized that he was sitting, looking at something. For some reason that he could not fathom, he shook his head. The pain came again and knocked him out of his chair. He screamed...but he screamed, "No!"

_Do it!_

"No!" Tim screamed. The light continued to burn him. "No!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Give him another dose."_

"_Another dose? Are you crazy?"_

"_No, but I want him to be."_

"_He pretty much thinks we're aliens already. We're near the threshold."_

"_If you're near, you're not at."_

"_You're risking killing him."_

"_If he's not going to help us, then we'll have to kill him anyway."_

"_You're going too far."_

"_Give him another dose. He's still managing some semblance of real thought. We can't have that...and we're on a time table."_

"_It can't be a full dose."_

"_Do what it takes."_

"_Last time he freaked out completely. We can't use him if he thinks the bugs are attacking him."_

"_That was only once. Now, give him another dose or I will."_

"_Fine."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What do you got, Abbs?"

Abby looked wild, but she managed to sound collected. "I found something on the security tapes. They handed them over to me. You were too scary, Gibbs."

"What do you got?" Gibbs repeated.

"Look, here." She grabbed his arm and Tony's hand and dragged them over to the monitor. "Okay, here's Tim's route. I have him out in the hallway. He actually hesitated a little bit before going outside." She laughed, but it turned into something halfway to a sob and she stopped. "Then, look!" Abby pointed to the view from the outside camera. "See that shadow? There's someone just out of sight of the camera. They're waving to him. That's why Tim looks over that direction!"

"Someone he knew?"

"It doesn't look like it, Gibbs. If he really knew them, he would have waved and gone over right away, but he stands there for a few seconds like he's trying to decide...or _remember_ them. But he ends up going."

"Shadows? Is that all?"

"No! I also managed to get something from the gate cameras. They just happened to be facing the building. Now, it's grainy and I can't clean it up at all because it's so far away, but look at this." Again, Abby pointed to the monitor. There was an unmistakable scuffle going on. It was short-lived however as another person came over at a few seconds after it started. Then, the shape they figured must be Tim was half-dragged to the parking lot...and put into a car.

"A car! Do you–?"

"Would I have shown you all that if I couldn't top it?" Abby asked, a smile on her face. "Voila!"

At the gate, the car was passed out and the clear license plate ER-3592 showed up on the camera.

"Do you have a name? Address?"

"Gibbs, you're stealing my lines!"

"Abby!"

"Here you are, el Jefe! Ms. Kristine Blumell, registered with the DMV and a not very nice picture." It was true. The picture was blurry and Gibbs got the feeling that Ms. Blumell had intentionally scrunched up her face to distort her features. "Here's her most recent address."

"Good work, Abbs," Gibbs said and was about to leave when Abby stopped him...again.

"That's not all, Gibbs!"

Gibbs turned around. "What else?"

"I think she may have been his blind date!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well...I hacked Tim's online dating account." Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "It wasn't hard! I know a lot of the things Tim uses for his passwords. ...there's a person on there who invited him to a fund-raiser, last minute. Good cause and all that. There was a stipulation of meeting each other at the event for safety's sake and in case the date didn't go well."

"Wouldn't that be suspicious?"

"Not in today's world. Too many people are afraid of being stalked or murdered," Abby said and then whirled around and faced the monitor. Her voice sounded a little choked as she brought up the info. "Here's the data file. It's the same person."

"Is that everything, Abbs?"

"Yes...just bring him back, okay?"

"We will." Gibbs grabbed the DMV photo, the profile photo from the dating service and ran out of the lab.

Abby hugged herself and looked at the computer again. She noticed that there was a Google search still up on the computer Tim had been sitting at. She leaned over and brought it up. "Oh, Tim. What _happened_?" she said when she saw the pictures.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He hurled himself against the light and was surprised that it was so hard. Light wasn't supposed to be hard. He did it again...and again. There was a lot of noise. He couldn't figure out what it was. The pain came again...and again. The noise continued. It seemed to stop when he breathed in. He wondered what it was.

_What will you do to stop the pain?_

A black shape...large, menacing...evil...he threw himself against the light again, trying to get away...and all the while the sound continued.

_What will you do to stop the pain?_

The outside sound suddenly echoed in his ears. _Stop...yes...stop..._

_What will you do to stop the pain?_

Instead of throwing himself against the light, he dragged himself over to the black shape. Let them tear him to pieces, eat him, kill him...whatever...only stop the pain...

_Answer the question!_

The effort it took to find the correct word was immense...he searched and searched in the mush of his brain. There were two options: the word he wanted to say and the word he _had_ to say. He didn't know _why_ he had to say it, but he did. He held onto that certainty. It was a tendril of something that saved him from the complete madness.

"No!" he screamed. Over and over he screamed it as the pain continued. "No! No!" He didn't know why it was so important that he continue to say the word, but he did it...over and over. The evil shadow kicked him in disgust and left him writhing on the floor, still screaming.

_How much did you give him?_

_As much as I could. Anymore and you'll kill him._

_Is it fully in effect?_

_Probably not yet. It takes time to spread._

_How much longer?_

_An hour? Maybe two at the outside._

_If he still refuses by then, give him more._

_Yes, sir._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Friday night, 10:30 p.m._

"Kristine Blumell, federal agents. Open the door!"

There was no response from within. Tony kicked the door and it sprang open...upon an empty apartment. It looked as though it had been empty for quite some time.

Gibbs swore.

"Now, what?" Tony asked, looking around in frustration. Another dead end.

"Now, we process this place and hope for a hit on the BOLO."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_??_

He was still screaming his refusal. He didn't know what he was refusing...only that he had to keep saying no. It was all he could seem to say. He couldn't stop screaming...not until the pain stopped...not until the light stopped burning...but he couldn't say anything else. There were shadows hovering everywhere, their fearsome jaws dripping with blood, claws grabbing at him. He burned and froze at the same time. He saw them whether his eyes were opened or closed...and all the while...the light...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"_What do you think you're doing?"_

"_Turning it off."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because he's at the limit. That's how it works."_

"_That's not how it works."_

"_Oh, really?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then, how do _you_ think it works?"_

"_It works how I _say_ it works."_

"_Very creative. This isn't part of the plan."_

"_It is now."_

"_No. That was only a contingency. We don't need it."_

"_Yes, we do."_

"_It's off, and it's going to stay that way until he's ready for it again."_

"_It's not about him being ready."_

"_You do your job; I'll do mine. Butt out. I know what I'm doing."_

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

"The landlord said that she was never late on the rent," Tony reported. "Bills paid on time, never made any noise."

Gibbs made a _hmpf_ sound. "Never made any noise. There's been no one here for months."

"So...is she involved or is she dead?" Tony asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine until we get a hit on the BOLO."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The voices were only slightly distorted to the listener's ears. What she heard was enough.

"_They found me."_

"_How much longer before we know if the drug is fully absorbed?"_

"_Another hour still. Crossing the blood-brain barrier is user-dependent."_

"_Fine, another hour. They won't find us before then anyway."_

"_I'd like to know how they found me at all."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_??_

The pain was gone...but the light was still there. He lay limply on the ground, not moving, not thinking. His breathing was shallow and rapid. His heart rate was not much better. Occasionally, a solitary tear trickled down his cheek. When the pain had finally stopped, he had found just enough energy to roll over onto his stomach. That was all. Now, he simply focused on the continued act of breathing because it didn't really feel like he could. Every so often, he would suddenly scream and wave his arms in the air. The scream was followed by a burst of gibberish. To those watching him, it was obvious that there was little of the man himself left in there. The drug was doing its job...driving Timothy McGee crazy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Boss! We–" Tony stopped abruptly as Gibbs put a finger to his lips. He then pointed out the door.

When they were in the hallway and the door was closed again, Gibbs looked around carefully at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Satisfied, he looked at Tony. "What is it, DiNozzo?"

"The apartment's bugged?"

"Yeah, I took a picture of it and sent it over to Abby."

"We got a hit on the BOLO. A busybody neighbor saw the car parked in the garage."

"How did she see that?"

Tony laughed. "She walked across the street and looked in the window. Said that she didn't approve of overnight guests of the opposite sex."

"Where?"

"Out in McLean, just off Highway 123."

"Let's go. Tell Ziva to meet us there...and to bring Ducky."

"Isn't having an ME on hand jumping the gun a little, Boss?"

Gibbs didn't headslap Tony. He gave him a death glare. "If McGee is there, we'll need a doctor. If the people who did this to him are there as well, we'll be needing an ME."

"Got it, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He lifted a hand into the air and then watched it as it fell to the floor. _Lift...smack...lift...smack..._

"No...no...no...no..." he kept saying the word, not knowing what it meant. _Lift...smack...lift...smack..._ "no...no...no...no..."

Then, suddenly the shadows were back and he forced himself to sit up and back away. Slowly, they approached him, black, bloody..._evil_...vague shapes breaking up the light. He heard strange voices, distorted and unintelligible. He whimpered and continued to back away. One of them lurched forward, grabbing at him. He screamed...and then continued screaming as the pain hit him again.

_Tell me what I want to know!_

"No! No! No!" The repeated word came faster and faster and louder and louder through the screams of pain. He flailed his arms against the shadows as they hovered over him. He pushed himself backward until he hit the wall.

_Tell me! Now!_

"Nooooo!" The word became a long drawn out scream of pain that did not cease. It had no meaning anymore. It was just a sound. He flung himself against the wall and raked his fingers across the smooth, unbroken surface, trying to find...something.

One of the claws touched him. ...burning pain...light stabbing into him...holes in his skin...no release... He was thrown roughly to the floor...and the pain disappeared...but he kept screaming, even after the shadows disappeared. He was falling apart! There were holes in his body! Everywhere! Holes! He bent over and began trying to scoop up the blood and put it back into the holes on his arms. Maybe if he was fast enough, he could keep himself from losing all his blood.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"If this is it, it should look more sinister," Tony commented as they pulled up to the curb.

"Why?"

"Something that drove McGee crazy? It should be more...nightmare-ish...more like..."

Gibbs slapped Tony and looked in his rearview mirror as Ziva and Ducky pulled up behind him. He took out his phone and called back to them.

"Ziva, tell Ducky to stay put until we find out what we're dealing with."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"You take the back, DiNozzo and I will take the front."

"Understood."

Quietly, the three of them got out of the cars and snuck up to the house. Ziva just seemed to melt into the background as she went into stealth mode.

"DiNozzo, garage."

"On it, Boss."

Gibbs approached the front steps. The door was unlocked. He opened it and stepped inside...and into...not what he expected...

Rather than the interior of a suburban ranch house, he was looking at...a _lab_, something that would look more in keeping with a science fiction movie...or..._The Twilight Zone_. Gibbs kept his gun ready and quietly walked through the house. He met Tony at the end of the first hallway. His eyes were wide, but he didn't speak. There was no sign of Ziva yet.

Tony and Gibbs walked together down the hallway, looking for a sign of life, a sign of sanity inside this suddenly insane world of blinking lights and strange machinery. They found a door. As Tony reached out to open it, Ziva joined them. She shook her head, but her eyes were wide at the situation surrounding them. Gibbs nodded to Tony as he and Ziva took up flanking positions. Tony counted off and then pulled the door open. The three of them leapt inside, guns at the ready.

"Freeze! Federal agents!"

There were three people in the room...and beyond them...a window...a glimpse into Tim's insanity. The three people turned around, surprise on the faces of two of the occupants, but not on the third. Gibbs shifted his aim slightly so that he was focused on the third man.

"Federal agents," Gibbs said.

The man almost grinned. "What a coincidence. So are we."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

There was a momentary standoff as a ripple of shock ran over the NCIS agents. _Federal agents? What do federal agents have to do with McGee?_ That Tim was there was beyond doubt. They could see him through the window, more than likely a one-way mirror. They couldn't hear him, but he seemed to be shrieking and throwing himself against the wall.

"Whatever you're doing to McGee, stop it," Gibbs said in a low voice.

The man actually laughed this time. "I don't think so..._Agent_ Gibbs. We're not done with him yet."

"Who do you think you are?" Tony asked. It was a slightly cliche thing to say, but he didn't really care.

"Griffen."

"You said you were _federal_ agents, yes?" Ziva asked.

"CIA."

"Figures," Tony muttered.

"What are you doing to my agent?" Gibbs asked. No one had lowered their guns...except Gibbs. He had only lowered his gun to aim at a different part of Griffen's anatomy.

"Testing him."

"Why?"

"He hacked us...a year ago."

"Stop what you're doing to him."

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Griffen asked.

"You keep this up, you'll have a chance to find out," Gibbs said, letting out just enough of his anger that Griffen could see he was serious. "I'll bet that whatever you're doing will be disavowed or whatever silly jargon you guys use. So...no one will miss you, not that I think anyone will miss your winning personality anyway. Stop."

Griffen smiled again but gestured to the woman behind him. She turned and pushed a few keys on the keyboard. Behind them, in the white, brightly-lit room, Tim slumped to the floor. Then, he began to rub his arms and to move his hands from the floor to his arms, over and over again. He appeared to be screaming still, but again, they couldn't hear him, only see his frenzied movements.

"What are you doing to him?" Ziva asked.

"Nothing, right now," the woman said, softly. "It's all in his head."

"Why?" Gibbs asked again.

"Are you going to put your guns away?"

"Not a chance."

Again, Griffen's mouth quirked into a smile. "I didn't think so." He gave off the impression that he found all this highly amusing.

"Don't make me ask you again."

"Last year, we were hacked. We found someone snooping around highly classified material. We don't get hacked often, and when we do, we find out who it is. Last year, the person who did it was very good. So good that we couldn't find him...for nearly a year."

"Didn't searching get a little boring after the first few weeks?" Tony asked.

"On the contrary, searching gets more exciting the better the person is. Now, we overlooked Agent McGee...our fault. He has the requisite skills, but...well, he's in NCIS," Griffen said.

"Try a tack we haven't heard before, Griffen. Not interested in that," Gibbs said.

"You thought it was Morris," Tony said suddenly. "You thought Morris was the one, and you did to him the same thing you're doing to McGee. What _are_ you doing?"

"I told you: testing him...but yes, you're right. We did think it was Morris. He was more daring. He bragged about conquests. He talked incessantly about trying to hack government agencies."

"Tony, go and get Ducky."

"Are you sure, Boss?" Tony asked, looking at the three. "You'll be outnumbered."

"Yes, but Ziva will play nice and give me a chance to take them down first."

Tony grinned and walked out.

"And just what do you think you'll do with Ducky?" Griffen asked.

"Take my agent and go."

"I don't think so. You can have him when we're done."

"Oh, really? I'm just supposed to trust you that once you're 'done' you'll just hand him over safe and sound?"

Griffen never broke eye contact. His expression didn't change as he said, "Of course." ..._his _expression didn't change, but the woman's behind him did. Only for a second, but it flickered...and then, Gibbs recognized her.

"Kristine Blumell?"

"That's as good a name as any," she said.

"And who's the other hulking shadow?"

"Quinn," the man said.

"First name or last name?"

"Does it matter?" Quinn asked.

"What is this _test_?"

"He's good enough to get in. How long can he hold it back?"

"You have his psyche profiles, I'm sure."

"Oh, please, Agent Gibbs. What good is a psyche profile? Do you honestly think that if a terrorist got ahold of him, he'd just politely ask Agent McGee to do what he wanted?"

"A terrorist? McGee's been perfectly safe from everyone except for his own countrymen."

"No one is ever completely safe, Agent Gibbs. That's why my job exists. That's why _your_ job exists. If people were safe, they wouldn't need us...and I wouldn't need to spend my weekends breaking people down to find out what they'd be willing to do to get away."

Tony ran in, followed closely by Ducky. He ignored Griffen, Kristine and Quinn and looked into the room in which Tim being held. He was still scooping some invisible stuff off the floor and rubbing it onto his arms. The motions were jerky and his face was a rictus of terror.

"How do I get in there?" Ducky asked, urgently.

"You don't, Doctor Mallard," Griffen said, abruptly. "No one gets in until the test is over."

"I don't think so," Gibbs said. "I don't care if I have to tear down this entire room to get in there. I will."

"And even if you take him away, Agent Gibbs, how will you keep him safe?" Griffen asked, sneering. "What makes you think that you can prevent us from taking him again? You can't lock him away forever, no matter how you try. You couldn't even do it for one week."

"How do you think your superiors would feel if your work got out? No one likes the CIA. You may be a necessary evil, but you're still evil in most people's minds. We have evidence from Morris. We have evidence from McGee."

"What evidence? Nightmares? A few bruises? Anti-social behavior? These are geeks. No one cares."

"McGee will remember. He was on his way to remembering when you took him before." Gibbs smiled unexpectedly. It only made him look more dangerous. "...which of course, is why you were going to kill him this time, not just let him go. And besides, in the eyes of the public, proof doesn't matter. All it takes is one piece of yellow journalism, one gung-ho journalist wanting to make a splash. Corruption in the CIA? Torture of a federal agent? No one will care if the evidence circumstantial. Not even _you_ can stop the presses. Not all of them."

The standoff continued. Even though Griffen appeared to be unarmed, he exuded a dangerous air, almost comparable to Gibbs'. No one moved...except Tim who had suddenly staggered to his feet and was wandering around his prison, waving his arms in the air, obviously speaking to...someone. Occasionally, he ran into the wall, but didn't seem to notice. There were black patches on his back, surrounded by livid red marks. When he faced the window, they could see scratches on his chest and arms. Other than that, just like before, he was relatively unmarked...just crazy.

"Do you plan on taking out everyone who knows about Operation Lodestone?"

Griffen didn't bother answering.

"We're at an impasse here, Griffen," Gibbs said. "Because I'm ready to assault a federal officer...if not commit murder to get my agent back. Are you ready to die to keep your project going? Agent McGee hasn't cracked has he?"

"No," Kristine said.

"Yes, he did. Last week, he did," Quinn corrected.

"No, he _didn't_," Kristine insisted. "He said he'd do anything, but he couldn't. He couldn't even focus on the screen long enough."

"He intended to, Blumell. That's the material point."

"He hasn't this time around."

"We haven't finished yet."

"You're so determined to break him that you're not even paying attention to the operation," Kristine said more loudly. "He's not breaking. His mind is shattered right now, and he _still_ won't help. He knows no more about it now than he did before and this time, even if he remembered the pain, he still didn't help. Morris cracked after the first day. You used him to spy on all sorts of people...and he did it. Agent McGee hasn't...not even with the higher dosage."

Griffen turned around to confront her and Gibbs made a decision. He stepped forward and clubbed Griffen to the ground with the butt of his gun. Quinn pulled out his gun, but Tony and Ziva were on him immediately.

"We're taking McGee with us, Quinn. You can join Griffen on the floor if you'd like," Tony said.

Quinn stepped back and dropped his gun. Kristine merely held her hands in the air.

"Where's the entrance?" Gibbs asked.

Kristine pointed to the left. Ducky and Ziva followed her pointing finger to a door and opened it, stepping, without realizing it, into Tim's nightmare...


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

He'd lost all his blood. He couldn't find it. It was there somewhere, but all his holes were empty and he couldn't find it on the floor.

"No...no...no..." he muttered weakly, looking for it in vain. The light held him back occasionally...there were certain places he couldn't go. Maybe they had put his blood behind the light. Maybe...he walked toward it...and was thrown back. He tried again. If his blood was in there, then he should be in there, too. He needed his blood. "No...no...no..."

The shadows...they were back. At first only two, but then, they multiplied, fangs and claws reaching out for him. He screamed and threw himself against the light. Pushing himself against it, trying to get away. "No! No!" he screamed yet again.

_Calm down. You are safe._

He screamed in terror and tried to get away. The shadows were everywhere...his holes were bleeding again. He reached away from the shadows and tried to catch the blood before it all disappeared again.

_Stay here with him. I'll be back._

_Should I do anything?_

_Keep him calm...if you can._

_McGee...It is Ziva. Do you not see me?_

Two words penetrated the thick layer of insanity in his mind...names...for a moment he tried to focus...then, he was gone again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva watched Ducky leave and then looked back at Tim. His eyes, when they were open, were so dilated that the green had nearly disappeared. His breathing was horrifically fast. He panted like he had just finished running a marathon. When she had touched his arm, his skin felt hot and dry. Perhaps what was worst of all was the complete lack of recognition on his face. He had looked at her, at Ducky, and begun screaming as if he was being tortured. His expression was one of terror and insanity. Tim had been replaced by some horrid doppelganger. There had been a brief moment that he had seemed to really see her, but it had been so quick that she might have imagined it.

"McGee...we are here. Gibbs and Tony and Ducky are just out the door. We will get you out of here soon."

Tim, again, paused for a moment in his movements, but still it didn't last. He stopped screaming, however, and began to mumble to himself a single word over and over. "No...no...no..."

"McGee, you must let us help you." She reached out to him and his muttering became faster and more panicked. When she backed away, he seemed to calm down a bit more. "I am Ziva. You have known me for three years. Remember? Do you remember me? Can you even see me?"

If the answers to any of those questions was positive, Tim gave no sign. He started to brush his hand on the floor and then rub it on his arm. His hand was cupped as if he was getting water from a stream. His motions became more and more frantic and then, he began to throw himself against the wall again. Ziva didn't even think. She moved to him and grabbed him. He began to shriek again, pulling against her grasp. She didn't let him go. Instead, she held Tim in her arms as he tried desperately to get to the wall. She could feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

"You are safe, McGee. Safe. No one can hurt you. No one. You are safe, McGee." Over and over, she repeated her words, hoping that she could get him to hear her, believe her...hoping that Tim was actually in there somewhere and that he would hear.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What did you give him?" Ducky demanded as he came back from the room. "What?"

Kristine glanced over at him. Any thought the others might have had that she was the softy was dismissed at her expression. "A cocktail."

"Of what?"

"Atropine and DMT."

"How much?"

"As much as we could without actually killing him."

Ducky usually looked like a kindly old grandpa, but now, he was furious and a little scary. "Do you carry any pilocarpine or physostigmine?"

"Why would we do that?" she asked without any emotion.

Ducky turned from her in disgust. "We need to get him to a hospital, as quickly as possible. While the dosage may not technically be poisonous, he could kill himself by weakening his heart and lungs with overexertion."

"Tony, go," Gibbs said.

"Boss, are you sure..."

"Do I _sound_ unsure, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss," Tony followed Ducky back into the room.

Ziva was still holding Tim tightly in her arms. He wasn't struggling quite so much, but _calm_ was probably the last word that could be used to describe him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Timothy, we're going to get you out of here, all right?_

The claws...the..._arms?_...around him didn't seem quite so frightening. They were covering up the holes.

_McGee, did you hear?_

_Probie, let's go._

More claws...hands...what were they? The shadows were there. They were going to get him again! He screamed and pulled out of the arms. "No, no, no, no..."

_Holy crap. Did you see his eyes?_

_Yes, Tony. They are dilated. His eyes are the least of our worries._

_I've never seen black eyes like that before._

_Focus, Tony!_

_Sorry, sorry._

The voices...they were...oddly familiar, not so frightening. Why not?

_McGee?_

A claw...no...he made an effort and the claw changed to a hand. It touched him and he didn't scream. He wasn't sure if he should. He couldn't remember anything so innocuous as a hand touching him.

_We should remove the contacts._

_Are you sure that's a good idea right now, Ducky? I mean, he's just barely _not_ cowering._

_Would you rather give the CIA a further opportunity to torture him?_

_Hey, Probie, roll over._

The hand asked him to move. He did. He lay on his stomach on the floor. Then..._pain_...it was less than before, but it came from the same place. He shrieked and began to struggle against the hands.

"No! No! No!"

Another sharp pain...and another. The hands turned back into claws. He fought them, but they were too strong. The shadows were too strong for him. They were tearing him to pieces! Then, the pain stopped and he went limp under the hands, crying wordlessly. The light! The pain! Claws! Horrid, horrid claws!

Then, he was back in the same arms he had been in before.

_I am sorry, McGee. It was necessary. We will not hurt you again._

He cried and cried and then screamed and fought again when more claws...hands...touched him.

_We are not going to hurt you, McGee! We are going to keep you safe. Tony and I are just helping you up. Trust me._

He was standing again. The shadows...he began to run from them. He was held back by the same arms.

_You are not in danger. You are safe._

Another arm...around his waist. That single tendril of thought that had told him to say no now was telling him to stay with those arms. They would be able to save him from the shadows. One step forward. Another step. He felt so tired. He stumbled. Another hand...claw...touched him and he screamed, plunging back into the horror. The claw disappeared.

Another step...another step...he couldn't catch his breath. He couldn't breathe! The holes...he was losing his blood again! He slid down out of the arms and began to try scooping the blood off the floor. Tears poured down his cheeks as he tried.

Two pairs of...hands...claws...hands...around him, pulling him away from his blood. Forcing him to leave it behind. He fought against them. "No!" He needed his blood. His bare feet skidded against the hot floor as he strove to remain with his blood. He saw it boiling away. "No!" he cried in an agonized voice. How could he get his blood back when it was evaporating?

Then...he was out of the light...it was dark...no light...dark...the shadows began to fade...seeming almost...human. He forgot to fight.

_Good, Timothy. Come with us._

_Ready to roll?_

_More than ready, Jethro._

_Good._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It took well over ten minutes to get Tim to the door. Every step seemed rife with terror for him. If anyone else touched him besides Ziva, he began to scream. He kept trying to crawl on the floor, and when they finally got to the front door, Tim suddenly freaked out and began to run. He pulled free of Ziva's grip and hurled himself at the door. It did not give and he bounced off it and crumpled into a heap on the floor. When Ziva touched him he screamed and began brushing at his arms. His motions became more and more emphatic and he started tearing at his arms. They had no idea what he was doing, but they knew it couldn't be good.

Ducky grabbed his arms and then gestured to the others to simply pick him up. Tony ran ahead to move the car to the driveway. They didn't have time to wait for an ambulance.

"Timothy, please, be quiet."

"No, no, no, no..." Tim repeated and he looked up at Ducky, his dilated eyes making him seem all the more demented.

"Oh, Timothy. You will be all right."

"...D...Ducky?..."

"Yes! Yes, Timothy!"

Then, Tim contracted his body suddenly, pulling his legs out of Ziva's grip. In surprise, Ducky lost his grip as well and Tim fell to the grass, curled into a ball and began to whimper. Tony pulled up and ran over.

"Perhaps, Ziva, you should speak to him. He seems to almost know you."

Ziva knelt on the grass. "McGee? Do you know who I am?"

Tim continued to whimper breathlessly. Ziva looked at Ducky and then tried again.

"McGee, look at me, please. Open your eyes."

To her surprise, Tim did. His black eyes stared in her general direction, although she wasn't sure he actually saw her.

"Do you know me?"

Tim stopped whimpering and stared. There was a timeless moment of rare silence.

"Ziva..."

"Yes, McGee. Trust me. We will help you."

Tim's breath still came in short anguished gasps, but he allowed himself to be moved to the car, finally. Ziva rode with Tim, to help keep him calm, and Ducky drove. Gibbs and Tony followed in the other car.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Griffen got up, grimacing, touching the knot on his head. "Good hit."

Kristine smirked. "Do you think they bought it?"

"Oh, yeah."

Quinn laughed outright, but not at his partner. "Lodestone. Does he really think this is about Lodestone? That operation went defunct six months ago."

"It's been a year. Perhaps, Agent McGee has not let Agent Gibbs in on his extracurricular activity."

"What are we going to do?" Kristine asked. "You heard what Agent Gibbs said, didn't you?"

"Yes. He's starting to remember. I thought you said that the atropine would distort his memories enough that he wouldn't."

"I said it was a possibility. It obviously wasn't working this time, even with the addition of the DMT. What do you want to do?"

"You know the rules. We either establish him as a definite low security risk or we get rid of the problem."

"Here's _my_ problem, Griffen," Kristine said. "You'd already made your decision, in spite of protocols. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it by the book."

"By the book? We've been operating outside the book for the last year."

"Maybe on the fringes, but not outside. If you just kill him without fully ascertaining the risk, you're going too far. I don't care who you report to. They won't be happy with that."

"Quinn?" Griffen asked.

"She's right. The protocols are there for a reason. Without them, we might as well _be_ terrorists. Personally, I don't want to cross that line."

"Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Good."

"But once we decide, we follow through, regardless of any sentiment, got it?"

"I'm no rookie, Griffen," Kristine retorted. "I'll kill him myself if it comes to that."

"Just so you remember."

"I follow the rules. You do the same and we won't have a problem."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Saturday morning 5:27 a.m._

The team, less Ziva, and plus Abby and Ducky sat in the waiting room. The doctor should be coming out at any time to tell them that Tim was okay now, that the physostigmine had done its job and that the DMT was fully purged from Tim's system. Ziva had been asked to stay with him because he managed to remain slightly calmer...at least enough to allow the doctors to treat him...when she was there. Abby had been slightly put out by that, but she had swallowed her disappointment and contented herself with waiting. Whatever would help Tim get better was a _good_ thing...even if it wasn't _her_ that was helping.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes...or he tried to. They felt very very heavy. He tried to think, but whatever was weighing down his eyelids was also weighing down his brain. He sighed.

"McGee?"

Slowly, very slowly, a name floated up from the depths. "Ziva..." he said, his voice a strained whisper.

"Yes. How are you feeling?"

Tim took the time to analyze the question, putting the words into their correct categories and then looking at the overall meaning. Was this something that deserved to be actually answered? Or should he just go back to sleep?

"McGee?"

Tim tried to open his eyes again. It was just too hard at the moment. He had forgotten the question. What was it?

"Can you hear me?"

Tim analyzed that question also. He determined that there were only two answers to it: yes and no. Common sense dictated that the answer must be yes because if it were no he wouldn't have been able to hear the words in the first place. Success!

"Yes."

There was a sigh of relief. And then a body reached over him. Logic told him that it must be Ziva's body. Again, he congratulated himself on successfully following a thought to its conclusion.

"No more shadows? No more blood?" she asked him.

Two questions...and he didn't want to think about them. No, there was nothing good that could come from him thinking about those two questions. He chose to ignore the questions and focused on trying to ascertain his surroundings with his eyes closed.There was a strange beeping noise. The lights were dim...even through his closed eyelids, he could tell that much.

"McGee, I have called for your doctor. He should be here soon."

Doctor...where did one find doctors? Ah-ha! Hospitals. He must be in a hospital. Why would that be? That question was tied into the questions Ziva had asked, the ones he didn't want to answer.

"You are still awake, yes?"

Ziva sounded worried. It must have been bad. Whatever it was. There was something knocking insistently on the thing weighing Tim's mind down. Something that needed to be acknowledged, needed to be understood..._remembered_. And yet, he also knew that he didn't _want_ to remember it...whatever it was. There's no way it would be something he'd like remembering. There was too much hovering at the edges of his memory that indicated he'd be less than pleased with what was there...whatever it was.

Then, the door opened, spilling light from the hallway onto Tim's face. He saw the light as it seeped under his eyelids. Something about that light was more terrifying than anything he'd ever seen before...even in nightmares...maybe it _was_ a nightmare. The memory knocked more and more insistently, beginning to shout through the obstruction, hinting at why the light was a bad a thing. He couldn't hear Ziva speaking to whomever had just entered...the doctor probably. He was deciding whether or not he was going to let that memory in.

The memory was tired of waiting. It burst through the obstruction and flooded Tim's mind with those horrible images, those horrible events. _Shadows, pain, light, claws, blood, holes..._it all piled over him, wave upon wave of twisted memory, visions of...insanity. He wished he could pass them off as nightmares...but he knew, somehow he knew that he could not do that. Remembering was more important that being comfortable. He closed his eyes more tightly and heard his own harsh breath in his ears. A couple of stray tears worked their meandering way down his cheeks.

Ziva's voice came from very close to him. "It is all right, McGee. You are safe here. Would you try to open your eyes? The doctor needs to examine you."

Tentatively, Tim did so. They didn't seem quite so heavy this time. Ziva was close beside him. He could see her in his peripheral vision...but more than that he could feel her comforting presence. The doctor was standing on the other side of the bed, looking pleased.

"Welcome back, Agent McGee. I'm glad to see you when you're not screaming."

Tim's still-sluggish brain, now laboring beneath an overload of unpleasant memories, struggled to find something witty to say. The best he could come up with was one word.

"Likewise."

"Let me get a look at your eyes, please." The doctor took a close look. "Good, the dilation is nearly gone. It was a hefty dose of atropine you got and we couldn't give you a comparable amount of antidote. You've had more than enough drugs in your system. We would have simply let it all filter from your system rather than attempt to treat it at all, but your physical response to the drug was too dangerous. Atropine can be a powerful hallucinogen, and your reaction was definitely an illustration of that."

Tim didn't know what to say. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Ziva's hand while the doctor continued his examination. He was surprised when she gripped it as tightly as he did.

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

_Saturday morning 6:00 a.m._

The phone rang and Jenny looked at it in annoyance. She hated these calls that somehow managed to bypass Cynthia. They were never happy calls. All they did was serve to further complicate her life...but, unfortunately, ignoring the ringing would not make it go away. She picked up the receiver from its cradle.

"Director Shephard," she said tersely. As she listened to the voice on the other end of the line, she stood up and the already quiet room seemed to grow even more silent. "You're not serious. ...This is ridiculous! How could you–?" The quiet voice on the phone _was_ serious. It was _not_ ridiculous...and he _could_. As the mostly one-sided conversation continued, Jenny began to get angry. She hated being blind-sided. "How long? When?" After a few more silent minutes, the phone went dead, leaving Jenny staring at the receiver with something akin to distaste, as if the phone itself had done something wrong.

Well, this was not something that she was going to let lie. It had to be dealt with...quickly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Saturday morning, 6:15 a.m._

After the doctor left, promising to tell the others, Ziva and Tim sat or lay quietly, still tightly gripping each other's hand.

"It wasn't a dream, was it," Tim said finally. He had spoken very little, and this was his first complete sentence...or rather his first sane complete sentence...in the last twelve hours.

"No, McGee, it was not," Ziva answered. "It was real...but it was a nightmare as well."

Tim nodded slowly. "Agreed." He was quiet for a few more seconds. "What day is it?"

"Saturday."

"Oh." Tim looked at their joined hands and tightened his grip. "It seemed longer," he whispered.

Then, the door burst open and Tim was enveloped in Abby's embrace almost before he had time to register the entrants.

"Not too hard, Abby. Please," Tim said softly. He was very happy to see her, but he was feeling a little...fragile, as if he had been...well, tortured. Go figure. Abby's arms immediately loosened to a much more pleasant hug and Tim sighed in relief.

"Oh, Tim! I'm so glad you're okay! I'm so glad that they found you and that..." Abby trailed off and hugged him again.

"I'm going to be fine, Abby," Tim said. "I promise."

"Do you remember what happened, McGee?" Gibbs asked as Abby finally let him go.

Tim smiled...but not happily. "Unfortunately, yes...but, Boss, I don't know if it's really going to help. What I remember is...well, it's...I was...unhinged, and what I saw wasn't real, not as such."

"How about before that happened? How did they get you?"

Tim blushed in embarrassment. "It was the fire alarm. At first, I thought maybe I should stay inside, but...I guess it's too many years of being trained to leave when the alarm goes off. I went out and I saw...a woman that looked familiar. When I was...in that room, I remembered who she was. I went out on a blind date with her on Friday."

"Kristine Blumell."

"Yes." Tim didn't bother to ask how they knew. They had found him obviously. "She was there, just outside the door. She asked me to come over and I did. Then, these other two guys came up and grabbed me. I tried to fight them, but one of them hit me and I was just dazed enough that I couldn't do anything. After that I was just in the room...the same place I was before. They didn't ask me any questions until...until I started to lose it." Tim took a deep breath. "I could feel myself going crazy. It's not pleasant."

No one said anything, but Abby hugged him again.

"Did you ever see them?"

Tim extricated himself from Abby's arms before he answered. "No, not clearly. When they first drugged me, they were both in black and their faces were covered. I never saw them. I could identify Kristine, but the other two, I could only give you body types."

"What about voices?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

"What was it like, McGee?" Tony asked. "What were you seeing?"

Tim met Tony's eyes and saw only sympathy there. He wasn't teasing or anything. Tim swallowed and held back the tears.

"Take your worst nightmare and make it real. Then, magnify it a hundred times and repeat it...over and over. That's what it was like." Tony started to speak, possibly to apologize, but Tim kept talking. "I didn't see any people, only shadows intent on tearing me apart. It felt like they did. I was surrounded by light all the time and with my pupils dilated, it was actually painful and I couldn't see anything clearly. Sometimes, I was being eaten alive by bugs. Other times, I...I was bleeding to death and trying to put the blood back in my body. Every time I thought I might have a reprieve the pain would start again. I still can't believe that it didn't do anything to me." Tim gave a small pained laugh. "If you want to keep people from trying drugs, an atropine trip would do it."

Again no one spoke. What was there to say, really?

"Who was it, Boss?" Tim asked finally. "You found me. It's only Saturday. You must have seen them."

"The CIA," Gibbs answered. Tim's reaction was strange. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in the shape of an "oh" but he didn't seem...disbelieving. "They were the same people who took Morris."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was a mixup. It was you they were after. They just didn't know it."

Tim gave a half smile. "Too bad for Morris."

"Yeah."

Then, the door to Tim's room opened again and he winced as the light from the hallway fell on his face. He tensed and closed his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Jenny?" Gibbs asked. Tim's eyes flew open again. What was the director of NCIS doing in his hospital room?

"Shouldn't you all be at work?" she asked, a smile on her face. Her stance, however, showed that she was here for a specific reason, not just to visit.

Gibbs looked at his watch. "Not yet. We have time."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "I need to speak with Agent McGee..._alone_."

"Does it have to be right now?" Abby asked. "He just rejoined the real world again."

"Yes, it does." Her tone brooked no argument. "I'm not going to hurt him, Abby, and he'll still be here when I'm done. There are two agents guarding his room even as we speak."

Gibbs stared her down, but she refused to back off. She was in full Director mode and would not be intimidated. He nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

There were some protestations, but they all filtered out of the room. After they were gone and the door was closed again, Jenny locked it and then turned on Tim.

"Do you have anything you want to tell me, Agent McGee?" she asked.

Tim looked at her warily. "No, ma'am. I don't think I do."

"Nothing about why the CIA kidnaped and tortured you this weekend? You know why, don't you."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. This was the very thing he'd been trying to avoid. Gibbs hadn't made the connection. He didn't know how much Gibbs had figured out, but it wasn't everything.

"I can't talk about it, Director."

"Well, I can. I was just filled in this morning. Would you like to tell me why you've been working for the CIA during the last two months?"

So she did know...sort of. He wondered who had told her.

"Well, Agent McGee?"

"It's not the CIA...not exactly."

"Explain."

Tim thought for a long time. "Where would you like me to start?"

"How about from the beginning?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"I hacked the CIA last year," Tim began. "I thought I had managed to avoid them, but I hadn't...not completely."

"Why did you hack the CIA?"

Tim took a breath. This was not how he had wanted all this to work out. He didn't know _how_ he had wanted it to work out, but not like this. "Gibbs asked me to find out who had ordered the polygraphs. It came from the La Grenouille operation."

"This is about Lodestone?"

"No," Tim said firmly. "No. I wish it was that simple. Me _finding _Lodestone is what it's about, not Lodestone itself. I had noticed that I was being tracked occasionally. I thought...I _hoped_ that it was nothing. I reset all my firewalls, changed some of my tracking habits. Once I put a trace on the one tracing me. I couldn't follow it. Then, it stopped. I figured it was over, whatever it was. I was wrong."

"What happened?"

"I'm still not sure why those people thought it was Morris for so long. I've been...working with...them for quite a while."

"Who are _they_?"

"How much do you know already?"

"That you've been working for the CIA, that this is an arrangement you voluntarily entered into and that you're on their payroll. I could share all the facts and figures, but I'm sure you know them already," Jenny said pointedly.

"Yes. I know them," Tim said. The expression on his face was not one of pleasure.

"So? Who are they?"

"They're CIA...marginally. They're one of those groups that don't exist."

"Are you sure they are who they say they are?"

"Yes." Tim looked away for the first time since she'd begun questioning him. "I hacked them, too."

"When?"

"When I was hacking the CIA before," Tim sighed. "I'm not explaining this very well."

Jenny suddenly realized that she was in a hospital room, talking to one of her agents who, less than six hours ago had been imprisoned, drugged and tortured. She was chagrined at her callous attitude. Tim was twitchy and pale. The lights in the room were low because up to just a couple of hours ago he had acted as though the light was killing him. She sat down in the chair recently vacated by Ziva.

"I'm sorry, McGee. Take your time. You have total license not to be at your best at the moment."

Tim leaned back against the bed and tried to school his thoughts. Where should he start? "Okay, so...I was hacking for Gibbs. I followed the signal all over the world and then it went to the CIA. I lost it in a bunch of Black Ops chatter. While I was trying to find it again, I ended up someplace I wasn't supposed to go."

"Wouldn't all that be encrypted?"

"Yes...it..._was_."

"You decrypted it?"

"Only while I was trying to find the signal. I didn't really think I'd be able to. It's the CIA, not MySpace. I was bouncing around, trying to keep out of their sights and trying to recover the signal. I ended up in...an out-of-the-way part of the CIA."

"Wouldn't that sort of define the CIA as a whole?"

"Yes. This was out-of-the-way...even for them. I didn't see much of anything there. I realized it wasn't the origin of the signal so I left the area right away. I reestablished my link and followed it to Lodestone. When I found it, I noticed I was being tracked. I thought it was the CIA people trying to see what I knew, what I'd managed to sneak into. I was right in a way. They were...but it was this other group, not Lodestone, not even the CIA proper."

"Do they have a name?"

"No. That only makes them scarier. People with names have some sort of oversight. I don't think these people do." Tim actually looked frightened. Jenny was surprised because he hadn't acted as though this was anything other than a typical debriefing up to now. She saw that he was truly afraid of the people he was talking about.

"So...you got away from them. How did they track you down?"

"I told you that I had noticed people shadowing me on the Internet, but then it stopped. I think it must be because they found Morris and thought they had their guy...or at least, some of them did. Kristine Blumell wasn't a part of the group that..._hired_ me. I would have recognized her."

"You've met them all?"

"No. I've only met my...handler."

"Then, how–?" Jenny began. "Oh...you hacked them."

"Not hacked, just extended my access a bit."

"Semantics, McGee."

"Yeah, but they didn't know."

"Are you sure? This doesn't seem like–"

"They told me there would be tests...of my loyalty. They wanted to be sure that I wouldn't crack under pressure."

"You _knew_ this would happen?"

Tim gestured at his arm which showed a large bruise from the pierced vein. "This? No. Over the last two months, I've been going through intelligence tests, tests of my computer knowledge, programming, hacking. I'm probably better at it now than I've been since college. They told me that there would be other tests, but I would have to wait and see what they were because true tests of loyalty wouldn't come on schedules. I only knew that there was more coming. They've still been using me. They just are waiting to see how I do. I'll bet the people who took Morris and then me don't know really what's going on. They only know that I'm supposed to be tested." Tim shuddered and his hand moved to his back, seemingly on its own.

"Why did you agree?" Jenny asked, after watching Tim for a few moments.

Tim smiled humorlessly and let his hand fall back to his lap. "You think I had a choice? Gibbs gave me a get-out-of-jail-free card, but that doesn't mean anything to these people. Their pitch was something along the lines of I could _voluntarily_ work for them or I could end up dead and they would mourn the loss of my unique talents. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't get out of it. My only consolation has been that at least they're working for the good of the country...even if the country doesn't know about it." Tim clenched his teeth tightly for a moment and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "If I...pass this test, I guess I'll keep working for them. If I fail..." Tim didn't bother to finish the sentence.

"What have you been doing?"

Tim looked worried. His gaze shifted all around the room. Was it possible that they had managed to place surveillance in this place as well? So quickly? Jenny followed his thoughts. "This room has been under strict guard since you were brought to the hospital. I understand that Ziva never left your side."

"I've learned...the hard way, not to underestimate them, Director." Tim thought back to the first time he'd found a bug in his apartment. "I'm under surveillance a lot more than you might think. Just about the only place they _haven't_ bugged is NCIS and that's only because the security sweeps are too good."

Jenny cocked her head to the side. "Didn't _you_ suggest tightening our security a couple of months ago?"

Tim nodded. "I had to have _somewhere_ I could feel safe...and you don't need to have the added worry of being spied upon by fellow citizens. But they've bugged my car, probably everyone else's as well. My publisher's office is bugged as is Abby's apartment, Ziva's apartment and Tony's apartment. Sarah is also under surveillance. My apartment has video and audio both. I tried removing them once." Again, the tears seemed close to the surface. "I woke up in the middle of the night, surrounded by some of my new colleagues. They...educated me on the fallacy of my actions."

"Tim..." Jenny said in shock. "No one noticed?"

"They're smart. They know where and how to hit so that it doesn't show."

"Is this a _permanent_ job?"

"I don't know. I haven't dared ask. Director, I've seen and done more in the last two months that scares me than I have in the last four years."

"How did they contact you first?" Jenny asked, amazed that Tim had managed to hide this so completely.

"An email," Tim said, an ironic smile on his face. "I got it at the end of the day, right before I left. I read it and then, trashed it, thinking it was spam. It wasn't. They were waiting in my car. They forced me to drive home. One stayed out in my car and my handler followed me inside. She put me through the paces and then made their pitch. I had no time to make a real decision. She had the gun all ready in case I said no."

"You didn't."

Tim seemed to wilt. "Maybe I should have, but I just didn't have the time to think, and...well, I have to admit that I didn't want to die. They had already proven how much they knew about me and how easily they could get to me. I'm stuck, Director. Can't you see how easy it is for them? You can't hide me. It would have to be forever, and I'm not willing to give up my life that way. I might as well be dead. I can't back out. I can't quit. If they find out that I've talked to you..."

"They won't."

"How can you be sure?"

"Tim, no one is omniscient...except God and I highly doubt He's working for the CIA."

Tim laughed weakly.

"You say these people have no oversight?"

"Not that I could find."

"How many are in this little secret cabal?"

"At least ten that I know about."

"Who's the leader?"

"That I haven't figured out. They're too well-hidden. I haven't dared make too much noise in my personal investigations."

"Understandable." Jenny now skewered Tim with an intense stare. "You've pretty much ruined my day, Agent McGee."

"It hasn't been a great day for me either, Director Shephard," Tim said, surprising her with his retort.

She smiled. "Since we're in the same boat, we'll help each other out. You seem to be painted into a corner."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Well, being painted into a corner is only a problem for a limited time and that time is even shorter if you have someone to help you out." She stood. "We'll figure it out."

"You won't tell them, right? Gibbs and everyone? They can't know. That's too many people. It's too dangerous...for me _and_ for them."

Jenny's face softened. "McGee, I understand your reticence, but people will have to know. I won't tell them now. I'll figure out a way to get the information to them securely...maybe in MTAC...or my office."

"Autopsy would be better," Tim muttered.

"I'll take that under advisement. Now, you get some rest. I think you've earned it. The agents outside your door won't leave and I can personally vouch for them."

"Thank you, Director."

"Don't thank me yet. Wait until you're free." Then, she left.

It was only when she got back to NCIS that she realized Tim had never told her what he was doing for this nameless group.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

After Jenny left, Tim tried to relax, but he couldn't help feeling that in some way he had just signed his death warrant by telling her what was going on. Maybe it was a product of the residual drugs in his system. Maybe it was two months of justified paranoia. Maybe it was true. Finally, he managed to drop into a fitful sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Saturday morning 9:30 a.m._

The bullpen was a somber place. Tony and Ziva, although they weren't talking about it, both had the same image in their heads: Tim, screaming in terror and totally insane. Tony didn't think he would ever forget seeing Tim that way. ...the first time he had turned his dilated eyes on Tony had been actually a little frightening. It had really been like looking at an alien or something...demonic...and knowing that it was really Tim, his friend and colleague, that he had been looking at only made it worse. He wished that the CIA agents had resisted. Sometimes, it really stank being the good guy.

Ziva stared blankly at her computer screen. Like Tony, she had the image of Tim screaming indelibly imprinted in her brain. Almost worse, she had the extra hours of sitting next to him trying to keep him from completely losing it while the doctors tried to heal him. Every person who stepped toward him brought another scream. Every time the door opened, he slipped back into the horror of his own twisted mind. There had been a moment when the physostigmine had begun to work at counteracting the atropine that Tim had looked at her and known her for who she was...but he was still lost in his insanity. He had begged her to help him get away. The people he was running from had changed from shadows to monsters to bugs and back to shadows again. When she tried to explain to him where he was, he had simply looked at her blankly and then begun begging for help again. She had asked if they could sedate him, but they had said that there were so many drugs in his system as it was that it would be dangerous for that...so he had kept screaming and pleading. She had not known it was possible to hear such soul-tearing screams for so long without sobbing herself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Wake up, Timmy."

Tim came to with a jolt. He was almost happy to be awake again, even though he knew that there was only one group of people who addressed him with the diminutive form regularly...and it was not his family. Thankfully, his mother had never done that.

"I can tell you're awake, Timmy. We have things to discuss."

Tim sighed and opened his eyes. There she was...his handler. She was dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. She had an ID and was looking at him with about the same amount of distaste he felt for her. It was a case of mutual hatred.

"So...who did you kill to get that outfit?"

"No one. She's taking a little nap. She won't even know."

"I'm surprised," Tim said. If anyone had heard him speaking, they would have assumed he was merely being combative with someone beneath his notice. That wasn't the case. He was terrified of this woman and he had passed through his usual stammering reaction to the false bravado that existed on the other side of fear.

"We don't kill unnecessarily, Timmy."

He hated that name...which was why she used it, of course. It put him on a lower level.

"Really? Could have fooled me."

She pulled a scalpel out of her pocket. "Give me a reason. I'll do it."

Tim swallowed. "What do you want?"

"You didn't finish your test."

"Hardly by my choice."

"True."

"So...what? Did I fail?"

"Unknown at the moment. Your results are annoyingly inconclusive."

"Sorry about that," Tim said, sarcastically.

"We have work for you to do."

"I'm not really in a position to do that at the moment. If you wanted me to work for you, you should have thought of that..._before_ you got the CIA to drive me insane." Tim felt a helpless anger stirring inside him. He wanted to...really hurt his handler. He wouldn't, but he wanted to.

"It's unexpected."

"What is it?"

"We want you to hack the CIA."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm calling for an emergency security sweep, just to let you know," Jenny said. "We've been having some trouble lately and it's just going to be a preventative measure."

"Security sweep?" Tony asked, brought out of his funk.

"Yes." Jenny turned her eyes on Gibbs, falling back on their old nonverbal communication signals, hoping he still remembered them. _Talk._

"How long will it take?" Gibbs asked and, to her relief, also added..._when_.

"Not long. You probably won't even notice it. I just wanted you to be aware." _After._

"Fine."

Jenny nodded and walked away. Perhaps she was being overly cautious. Tim had said that NCIS wasn't bugged, but that didn't mean that they didn't have someone planted in there to watch him. Better safe than sorry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You've got to be kidding. Aren't _you_ a part of the CIA...even if it's only marginally?" Tim asked.

"Yes. We are. We are on the margins and we'd like to keep it that way. Someone has been sniffing around. We want you to find them."

Tim stared at her, feeling the anger, wanting to make her feel the same panic he'd felt. He'd settle for being annoying.

"I guess you're not omniscient after all," he said.

In a moment, the scalpel was at his throat. "Do you think this is a joke, McGee?"

Tim wanted to stammer and apologize, but he didn't. He made himself hard. "I thought you didn't kill unnecessarily."

"No one is irreplaceable...and certainly not you."

"Right. That's why you spent a year trying to find me."

The scalpel tightened. "We're in it for the long haul. Short term staff replacements are expected."

Tim still didn't back off. He wasn't sure why. He always had before.

"Was Morris a backup, then? Is that why your little testing team kept using him after you'd found me?"

The scalpel fell away from his throat and for the first time, her expression changed...to one of slight confusion. "What do you mean?"

Tim smiled. "Didn't you know?"

The scalpel was back. This time, Tim felt a small trickle of blood.

"Know what?"

"That the CIA team was using him..._after_ you'd already hired me."

For just a moment, Tim thought she might just kill him then and there. Then, the control was back and she smiled.

"No, we were not aware of that. You might be earning your keep sooner than you think. I'll be in touch."

Then, she was gone, leaving Tim with a thin stream of blood running down his neck. Only then, after she had left, did he allow himself to close his eyes. Only then, did he allow a few tears to fall...but only a few. He knew that Ziva would be impressed at his newfound ability to keep things inside...but he wasn't happy about it at all. _This isn't me. This isn't what I do._

One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to stay here. The room was almost certainly bugged now. There was only one place he knew he could go and feel safe.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Saturday morning, 10:30 a.m._

Gibbs flipped the switch and stopped the elevator.

"What's up, Jen?"

Jenny looked around. The security sweep had come up negative, but maybe Tim's fear had infected her as well. She was still reeling from the fact that Tim had essentially been a prisoner for the last two months and she hadn't known.

"McGee's been working for the CIA."

Gibbs stared at her for a few seconds without speaking, slowly processing that tidbit of information. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"What?"

Jenny laughed, even though the situation was _not_ funny. "Agent McGee has been working for a small group operating under the auspices of the CIA for the last two months."

"How do you know this?"

"I got a call this morning..."

"From whom?"

"None of your business, Jethro. Suffice it to say that I asked McGee about it and he admitted it."

"Why didn't he tell anyone?"

"Because it's unwilling. He's apparently been under pretty close surveillance ever since. You didn't know, then?"

"No."

"That's why he was taken and tortured. That _test_ was a test of his loyalty. To see if he'd crack under pressure. It was set by that group, but the three agents you found are just underlings, I think."

"What is he doing for them? Why him?"

"They found him because of his hacking into the CIA last year," Jenny said. "Work he did, I might add, under your direction."

She may as well have slapped him across the face. For an instant, before he got himself under control, she saw the realization hit him that _he_ had probably put Tim in this position.

"But he wouldn't tell me what he was doing. It was actually quite smooth. I asked and he diverted my attention. I wouldn't have thought him capable of it." She smiled briefly. "But, Jethro, he's terrified. He didn't want to tell me; he really didn't want anyone to know because he's afraid that not only will he be killed for exposing them, anyone he's told will be killed as well."

"He never gave any sign of that."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim looked at the IV. He could probably remove it easily enough. Then, there was just the question of his clothes. He had his pants still, but his shoes and his shirt were missing. Great. No shirt. No shoes. No service. Well, he could use his gown as a shirt, more or less. But that still left the issue of having no shoes. With his anger and fear still coursing through him, he had enough adrenaline to propel him out the door.

Tim pulled out the IV, pulled on his pants and walked to the door of his room.

"I need a ride to NCIS," he said firmly. The two agents looked at him in surprise.

"Director Shephard didn't say anything about you leaving."

"She didn't know," Tim said. "I need a ride back to NCIS. If you want to stay here, fine. Just let me have your keys, but you'll be guarding an empty room because I'm not staying. I'll walk if I have to, but I'm not staying."

"Okay, Agent McGee. If you say so."

"I do." Tim gestured for the two of them to lead him to their car. He followed sedately behind them, padding along in his bare feet, trying not to show the embarrassment he felt at being outside in his hospital gown, trying to hold in the fear he so desperately wanted to express. He would have been saddened to know that he succeeded.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We need to figure out how to get him out of this group's control without them deciding to kill him, and we need to do it quietly. McGee believes that they're dangerous and I'm prepared to believe him."

"Okay."

"The fewer people who know about this the better, but I'll leave that to your discretion."

"To _my_ discretion?"

Jenny smiled. "Find some and use it, please. I also don't think we should leave him in that hospital for much longer. They're liable to track him down there."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why _are_ we guarding you, Agent McGee?"

"Because...I'm a very important person," Tim said, smiling that smile that was completely devoid of any humor. It was a smile that people used when what they really wanted to do was grimace. "Everyone wants a piece of me...but I'd like to keep my pieces to myself."

The two agents grinned. They were taken in by Tim's swagger, not knowing that he was making every effort to channel all the aspects of Tony that he found most off-putting. They didn't work at headquarters. They worked in the field office, but they were in and out of NCIS often enough that they had no trouble getting into the Yard.

"Agent McGee, you aren't wearing any shoes."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Tim answered.

"You could have mentioned it."

"Would you have given me yours?"

"No."

"Then, there was no point. I'll survive. I've been pretty good at that so far," Tim said quietly.

"Well, we'll give you door to door service to save your feet."

"Thanks. Thanks for the ride."

"Don't mention it. Early start to the day, but it got me out of paperwork. So, no complaints."

Tim smiled and then got out of the car as it pulled to a gentle halt in front of NCIS. He really didn't want to walk in there in his hospital gown, and he didn't want to walk in there without shoes on...but his desire to be inside the building, to be near his friends, the people who had saved him once already, to be in the one place that he _knew_ he could be alone, overrode his desire to maintain his dignity. He squared his shoulders and walked inside.

"Agent McGee, you're looking pretty casual this morning," the security guard noted.

"Yeah. Isn't it casual Friday, Alex?" Tim asked, trying to be cavalier.

"Well, it's Saturday, first of all..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm trying to start a new trend. I call it hospital casual," Tim joked weakly.

"Interesting." He passed Tim into the building and looked after him in mild concern as he walked up the stairs.

There was one place that Tim wanted to go, and he was determined to get there without interruption. No elevators, just the stairs up...and then, the stairs down...and down.

Tim walked into Autopsy. No one was there. He nodded and sat down on one of the steel tables, wrapping his arms around himself to stave off the shakes that had finally caught up to him. Normally, he did this at home, but he needed to feel safe. Again, there were few tears...and no sobs. Just loud breathing and a solitary shaking figure, finally releasing the fear, the sheer horror he felt at what had happened, at the things he'd done.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As soon as she and Gibbs got off the elevator, Jenny turned her phone back on and was surprised to see that she had a message from the two agents she'd placed outside Tim's room.

"_Director Shephard, Colin and I gave your Agent McGee a lift back to NCIS. He was very insistent that he not stay in the hospital any longer and since you had not given any instructions on him remaining there, we did as he asked. He's rather casually dressed, however. He didn't even have any shoes. He seemed fine, but...well, Colin thinks there's something amiss."_

Jenny strode by Gibbs to the balcony. No Tim.

"What is it, Jen?"

"That was the agents I put outside McGee's door. He asked them for a ride to NCIS."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, but he's not down in the bullpen."

"Where else would he go? Abby's lab?"

Jenny almost agreed, but then she remembered Tim's passing recommendation. "No, he'll be down in Autopsy."

"Why there? Ducky's not in until the afternoon and McGee doesn't even really like it there."

"Just call it a hunch," Jenny said and walked by him again, back to the elevator this time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had abandoned himself to his body's physical response to the stress and fear. He seemed to have forgotten how to cry, though. He thought about lying down, but he didn't really want to be in that position. Instead, he leaned forward, still shaking violently, and hunched his shoulders. He figured he could reassert his ironclad control later. If he didn't get this all out now, he'd be more likely to slip up. He didn't even notice that the slice from the scalpel was bleeding again. All he noticed was his own fear...and his anger.

...at least until the doors to Autopsy inexplicably opened and he raised his head to see Gibbs and Jenny walking in. Gibbs looked angry and Jenny looked worried. She had told him. Tim had known she would, but he had nursed a fragile (and now dashed) hope that she'd wait for a day or two...just so that he could pretend everything was back to normal.

So much for that. The first words spoken, even before seeing if Tim was all right, although Jenny had appeared to be on the verge of asking that very question, were from Gibbs.

"Why didn't you tell me, McGee?"

The anger that Tim had felt powerless to express to the people who actually deserved it suddenly surged forward again. He stood up and faced Gibbs, his bare feet and hospital gown forgotten.

"Tell you what, Boss?" Tim asked, the bravado firmly back in place. "That I'm working for people who will kill me if I talk?"

"Why didn't you trust me?" There it was again. Gibbs seemed to take it as a slight against him that Tim didn't reveal his problems and Tim wasn't in an apologizing mood this time.

"I trust you. It's _them_ I don't trust."

"You don't think that I–?"

Tim cut him off, the anger much hotter than it had been. "What makes you think that this has _anything_ to do with you? What makes you think that you can do _anything_ to stop them?" Tim put his hand to his neck and stared at the blood. Then, he held out his fingers for inspection. "Do you see this? Do you see _this_?" Tim pointed his fingers back at the wound. "My handler did that just for me being too flippant. Don't you understand what they would do to me, what they _will_ do to me if they find out that you know, that I told anyone? They won't stop to ask questions. They beat me up just because I tried to regain a little privacy." Tim felt himself starting to shake again, but he held back the tears. He would rather be angry. "I had been in that hospital room alone for maybe three hours before she came. She knocked out another doctor just to get to me. She was ready to kill me again. That's how they work. If you don't fit in, you die. If you don't toe the line, you die. There's no quitting. There's no changing your mind. When they came to me, I had two choices: work for them or die. That's why I didn't tell anyone, Boss. That's why I shouldn't have told anyone today. If they find out...they'll kill me, and they'll kill anyone else they have to in order to keep what they do a secret. I've seen it too many times to doubt it."

"You've seen what?" Jenny asked, finally getting a word in.

Tim stood there, shaking for a few seconds. "What do you think they need me for? It's not for my physical skills. It's not because I work for NCIS. It's because...I can find things...people." Tim stopped, trying to tamp down his emotions again. "I've...I've helped them find the people they have deemed dangerous...and there's only one way that they deal with those people...and I help them...do that. What they need to be sure of is that I can handle doing it...which I can. I haven't failed yet. And they need to be sure that I won't tell anyone...which I hadn't...until today. Not everyone they've killed is here. They've gone into the Middle East, to Gitmo, to Europe, even in China and North Korea. They go anywhere and everywhere to get rid of perceived dangers to this country...and sometimes...just people who are dangerous to them." Tim stopped again and tried to stop shaking...but he couldn't. "...and...I..." he trailed off, unable to continue the litany of things he'd done for this group. "...I wish...I had the guts to fail...but I don't want to die...that's why I'm still working for them."

No one spoke for the space of a minute and then, Tim looked Gibbs in the eye. "You can despise me for that. You can hardly despise me more than I despise myself, but I don't want to die, Boss...and I don't want to have more lives on my conscience than I have to. I have too many as it is. So, don't try and make me feel guilty for not telling you about it. I refuse to feel any guilt for trying to..." The tears were getting closer. "...to keep the casualties to a minimum. I will _not_ apologize for trying to deal with this on my own because there are no other options."

Tim seemed to finally run out of words and he stopped speaking...but he continued to shake with the effort of remaining in control.

Gibbs stared at Tim for a long time. Tim didn't look away. He just stood there, his neck still bleeding, his feet bare, the hospital gown slipping off one shoulder...shaking.

"I'm sorry, McGee."

Tim didn't reply. Possibly, he couldn't.

"...but there _are_ options."

Tim just shook his head hopelessly. A single tear was shaken loose with the motion.

Gibbs couldn't believe what he had seen and heard from Tim. It was as though there was someone else standing in front of him. In place of the introverted computer genius was a tattered and tarnished prisoner. He, Gibbs, had a hand in that. His obsession with _knowing_ had put Tim in this position. How could one night have done all this? He remembered clearly when Tim had told him that there was someone watching him. Gibbs had shrugged it off because Tim had seemed to have it all under control, but now, against all experience to the contrary, he remembered what Tim had said. He had said that he couldn't kill botagent but there were ways of getting around it. Gibbs had thought they had...obviously, he was wrong.

All the anger seemed to drain from Tim as quickly as it had appeared. He slumped and sat down on the table again. His head dropped and he stared at his hands, one still bloody from the cut on his neck...both of them still shaking.

"Don't you think I've tried, Boss? Don't you think that I've been trying to find options for the last two months? There _are_ no options...except for the ones that don't work. And now, they have another job for me and another person for me to find so they can kill them."

"What do you mean?"

"That's...that's why my handler was there at the hospital. That's why I came here."

"Why Autopsy?" Gibbs asked.

"Because I don't like it," Tim whispered.

"Do they know that much about you, McGee?" Jenny asked.

Tim nodded. "They know everything about me. I don't know how long they must have watched me before I knew about it." He looked up, and Gibbs was suddenly struck with the realization that Tim had been feeling this way for weeks and no one had had the slightest inkling of it. What he was seeing here was something that Tim had hidden from them all.

"McGee, we need to tell Tony and Ziva."

"No! I didn't even want _you_ to know, Boss!" Tim said, the fear suddenly palpable. He looked from Gibbs to Jenny and she could read the expression in his eyes as if he'd shouted it: _This is exactly what I was afraid would happen._ "The more people who know, the more danger there is of them finding out. Haven't you been listening to me?"

"Yes, I have, but I think you're wrong."

The anger was back and Tim jumped back to his feet, still shaking. He was on an emotional roller coaster and he hadn't had a chance to get off yet.

"I won't go into Witness Protection," Tim began. "I am not willing to give up everyone that I care about just to have some peace of mind. I won't disappear. If you try to expose them and take them to court or whatever, they'll kill me and there goes your only evidence. That's happened three times in the past two years. They showed me two and I helped with one. Offering a replacement won't work. They showed me the video of what happened to my predecessor...one too many failures." Tim gulped...almost as if he was going to be sick. "People don't get fired or laid off. If I try to take them on...they know about Sarah. They know where my parents live. They know about all of you. I will _not_ put you all in danger just for me, just because I can't handle it."

"They've won, haven't they, McGee."

Tim didn't answer, but Gibbs could see it in his eyes. Tim wanted to get out, but he had no hope of it happening. He was resigned to his fate, as he saw it. Well, Gibbs was not. He would not allow his agent to continue to suffer for something _he_ had done.

"I'm sorry, McGee, but you have no say in this matter." Gibbs pulled out his cell and began to dial. Tim actually ran at him and tried to pull it away before he could connect. As he approached, Gibbs flipped his phone closed, holstered it and had his hands out to stop Tim...but Tim stopped himself and stood in front of him.

"At least you're honest about it," he said.

"About what?"

"About what choice I have. They keep pretending that it's some sort of job opportunity, like I don't want to recoil every time I'm in the same room with her. They always give me choices...but one of the options is always to die. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to carry out the threat, but they know they won't have to."

Gibbs put out his hand toward Tim's shoulder, but Tim flinched and turned away. "Do what you want, I guess. What's a few more?" He walked back to the autopsy table and sat down again. Gibbs saw the melted skin, the bruising on his back and winced at the reminder of what Tim had just been through. Then, he took out his phone again.

"DiNozzo, I need you and David down in Autopsy in two minutes. Grab Abby while you're at it." Gibbs looked at Tim as he spoke and saw him open his mouth to protest and then subside. He hung up without giving Tony a chance to respond.

"Do I have to be here for this, Boss?" Tim asked.

"Where would you go?"

"Anywhere else."

"Why?"

"I don't want to see their faces."

"Isn't that why you came here instead of going to your apartment?"

Tim just shrugged and didn't try to leave. He looked down for a few seconds and then he met Gibbs' gaze again. The mask was firmly in place. The shaking was gone. But for his strange attire, Tim looked just like his old self...and that was sad because two minutes before he'd shown how he was feeling. What had been normal before was now the lie...Tim had learned how to lie.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Did you see the hulking giant's face?" Tony asked suddenly.

Ziva didn't reply.

"Ziva!"

"What, Tony?" Ziva asked, her voice subdued.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What?"

"Did you see that Quinn's face?"

"Yes, why?"

"When Gibbs asked about Lodestone, were you looking at him?"

"I may have been. Why?"

"I don't think this is about Lodestone."

Ziva finally seemed to pay attention. She looked at Tony. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if McGee really hacked them last year...why would it still be about Lodestone? That op died with La Grenouille."

"What does this have to do with me looking at Quinn?"

"His expression. I swear he was feeling smug...like he'd just gotten away with something."

Ziva thought back. She had been more distracted by Tim's insanity than she would like to admit.

"Come on, I thought you were the one with a photographic memory."

"That does not mean that I was looking at him at the exact moment you say he was looking...smug."

Tony suddenly dropped the joking tone. "Was it hard?"

Ziva looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Sitting with McGee...was it hard?"

Ziva looked down and then back at him again. "I did not enjoy it."

"What do you mean–?" Tony broke off as his phone began to ring. "Hey, Boss. I think we've– Autopsy? Sure, okay." He hung up. "Gibbs wants us to grab Abby and go down to Autopsy."

"Why?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't say. Shall we?"

Ziva shrugged in return and stood.

When the three of them reached Autopsy, it was hard to say who was more surprised by Tim's presence, hospital gown and all.

"Probie, what are you doing here? Did you croak prematurely?"

Tim's body seemed to tense, but just for a second, when Tony spoke. Then, the moment passed and he looked normal. "I just love Autopsy so much that I couldn't stay away, Tony."

"What's going on?" Abby asked curiously. She could sense that there was something wrong, although she had no idea what it was. "Why did you leave the hospital, Tim...without your clothes?"

Gibbs looked closely at Tony, Ziva and Abby...particularly Abby. There was a reason he wanted her here, but he had to admit to some ambivalence about his choice. Still, if they ended up with forensic evidence, she'd need to know it anyway.

"What we're about to tell you can't leave this room," Jenny said, seriously. "It is vitally important that you understand that from the outset."

Tony smirked, although he felt the faintest stirrings of dread. He ignored them and did what he always did. He made a joke. "Right, so McGeek's secretly a superhero? That's why the CIA wants him, right? To do evil secret experiments and stuff."

Then, Tim was suddenly standing, squared off, facing, not Tony, but Gibbs. "This can't happen, Boss!" He pointed at Tony. "This is not something to joke about. This is not a joke. This is _not_ funny." His voice rose in volume and he seemed less in control as he continued to speak. "This is the very reason why I thought it was a bad idea. I shouldn't have said anything at all." He shook his head. "No. I'm not going to let this happen. That's it. It's over." He turned around and began to leave, his feet making soft pattering sounds as he strode past Tony toward the door.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked after him.

Tim stopped and turned around. This time, he looked at Tony who was standing surprised beside Ziva who looked equally shocked.

"No, Boss. _No_," he said and then turned back around and left.

"Abby, go," Gibbs said.

"What's going on?" she asked again. "What happened?"

"Just go after him. Talk to him," Gibbs said.

Abby threw him a confused look, but did as he asked.

"What did I say, Boss? Is McGee really a superhero?" Tony asked, not able to be completely serious even then.

"DiNozzo, do yourself a favor and stop talking," Gibbs said.

"Is this about the CIA?" Ziva asked. She looked at Tony who actually seemed a little hurt by Gibbs' order. "Because, Tony thought that this might not be about Lodestone."

Tony looked at her, but didn't say anything.

"You're right, Tony," Jenny said. "It's not about Lodestone." She smiled humorlessly. "It's ten times worse...at least."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Tim! Wait up!" Abby shouted.

"I'm not in the mood to talk, Abby," Tim said at the elevator. The doors opened and he got on. He was unsurprised when Abby got on with him. What did surprise him was that she didn't say anything. She did override him and send the elevator to her lab, but since he really didn't know where he wanted to go anyway, that didn't matter. When the elevator doors opened, he followed her, unprotesting, into the lab. He sank down onto one of the stools and didn't speak. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the counter and rest his forehead lightly on his fists.

Abby watched him worriedly. Tim seemed so...off. Granted, he'd just been through something awful, but now, she was realizing, as if for the first time, that there'd been something off about him for a long time.

"Come on, Tim. It can't be that bad."

Tim didn't even favor the inane comment with a sad chuckle. He just sighed. "Abby, you have no idea. No one does."

"It sounded to me like Gibbs and Director Shephard know."

This time, Tim did laugh...a sad hollow laugh that showed he only felt worse by what she was saying, not better.

"They don't know?"

Another hollow laugh. "They know...the facts, at least. They don't really understand. They can't because they're not me." Tim sat up again and stared out the windows. "I'm not like them. I can't just...only I can. I found out that I can, and I hate that...the way I've changed. No one even realizes it. And I hate that, too." Tim could have been talking about his latest computer program for all the inflection he used.

Abby found that she really hated this emotionless Tim sitting in front of her...and yet, she had to admit that he'd been like this for weeks. She hadn't even bothered to ask in all that time why. It's not like they were going out or anything. They'd both been busy. Tim had cases. She had cases. He'd been working furiously trying to get his book done, after restarting it twice following Tony's and Ziva's rather lackluster responses and Abby's own near death experience. Now that she really thought about it, Tim hadn't been hanging out with any of them much at all...and she hadn't even thought about it...until now.

"Tim, talk to me. What's been going on with you?"

Tim just laughed again. "Oh...you know, this and that."

Abby turned the stool around. "Tim, you're being really weird. Why did you leave the hospital so soon? Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

"No one thought to get them from the house."

"What?"

"My shoes. No one picked them up...same with my shirt. So I had to leave without them."

"But _why_? Why did you have to leave? The director left people guarding your room. Those CIA spooks couldn't get to you again."

That was the wrong thing to say. She knew it the moment she'd said the words. Every scrap of expression left Tim's face and he stood up and walked away from her.

"Tim, I'm sorry...whatever I said. What's wrong? How can I help if you won't say anything?"

"Abby...you can't help." Tim stopped and then gave another of those hollow laughs. "Actually, you might be able to...but I'm not willing to risk it."

"Shouldn't it be _my_ choice?"

Tim turned around, his face still expressionless, but his eyes alive. "No, it shouldn't! You can't choose if you don't know...but you can't know because once you do, there's no going back. This is an all-or-nothing choice, Abby. You can't decide it's too hard or too dangerous or too...anything. Once you're in..." His face started to crumple. "...you're in."

Abby stepped forward to give him a hug but he backed away.

"No, Abby. Hugs can't help this time. You can't fix it by being nice. You can't fix...me."

"Maybe _I_ need the hug, McGee. Did you ever consider that?"

"I'm the last person who can make you feel better right now."

"You're the _only_ person. Please?" She held out her arms again.

Tim hesitated and then moved into her arms. He tensed when she inadvertently touched the burns on his back, but then, he began to relax. Abby waited until Tim was calm. Then, she dared to ask again.

"Tim...what's wrong?"

Tim gave a long shaky sigh. "Everything's wrong, Abby."

"What, Tim? You know that Gibbs will be telling Tony and Ziva whether or not you want him to. Please, tell me."

Tim pushed away from her again and walked back to his stool. "I'm working for the CIA...sort of."

Abby grabbed his arm and turned him around, but she let go when she saw him flinch at her touch. Tim didn't let her ask more questions.

"We can't talk about it up here, Abby. It's probably safe, but I don't know...and I don't trust them to stay out."

"Who is them?"

Tim shook his head. "Not here."

"Then, let's go back."

"I don't want to go back, Abby. I don't want to bring you all into this...this nightmare."

Abby smiled kindly and touched his cheek. She was surprised to find a single tear had escaped from Tim's eyes. They both looked dry. "We're already in it, Tim. As long as you are, so are we. At least, let us know what the nightmare is."

Tim closed his eyes, his expressive eyes, that told so much about him.

"Tim, do you really _want_ to go through this, whatever it is, on your own?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shook his head, seeming unable to actually answer verbally.

"Then, let us help."

Tim's voice was shaking as he answered. "Abby, you don't know what you're asking."

"Yes, I do, Tim. I'm asking for my friend to confide in me...and for that friend to tell me what I can do to help. I may not know exactly what's going on, but I can see that it's serious. I can tell that you need help. So, stop being so stubborn and let us do what friends are supposed to do!" She held out her hand. When Tim didn't take it, she grabbed his arm. "Now, are you going to let me learn what's going on or do I just have to stand here and stare at you for an hour?"

Abby kept her tone light, but she watched as Tim finally capitulated. It looked as though it was the hardest thing he'd ever done...taking that first step with her back to Autopsy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim looked at the group as he re-entered Autopsy. It looked almost as though they hadn't moved in the time he and Abby had been gone. Tony and Ziva were still standing together a few steps inside the door. Jenny was by the table he'd been sitting on and Gibbs was looking at Tony and Ziva from a few feet away. Frozen in place.

It would have been hilarious if it hadn't be so tragic. And even though it _was _tragic, Tim felt a bubble of very inappropriate laughter in his throat. He debated whether or not he should let it out. It wasn't that the situation was actually funny. It was just that he'd been holding everything in for so long, and Tony had gone from his usual teasing grin to looking like a dog with its tail between its legs. Everything else was just the same as it had been. Tim couldn't repress the thought that time had been frozen in Autopsy...and it struck him as very funny.

Part of him knew that it _wasn't _funny. In fact, had he been asked to explain what he found funny, he wouldn't have been able to do it, but the continual barrage against the walls he'd built up was finally making progress. His emotions were tired of being kept inside and wanted to burst out any way they could. If that involved laughter, so be it.

Tim started to laugh.

He knew there was a problem when everyone began looking at him in concern...and then, when he found that he couldn't actually _stop _laughing. But it felt so good to be expressing _something_ that he didn't try too hard. Vaguely, he heard Abby, from one side, ask him if he was okay. He couldn't answer. He couldn't get the breath to answer. Then, Gibbs was on the other side. Gibbs, who was responsible both for his situation in general and his presence here, specifically. Tim couldn't decide how he felt about that, as he continued to laugh, tears running down his cheeks.

Gibbs said something that was probably supposed to be pseudo-comforting. Perhaps not. Maybe, being Gibbs, he was berating Tim for having a breakdown. Tim decided that was funny, too. He was being lectured and he couldn't even hear the words. It was like being asked to perform some task when he couldn't see the computer screen, when his whole mind was clouded by drugs. How was he supposed to be able to do what they wanted him to do if he couldn't even hold a single coherent thought in his head? What was the point of that?

His laughter became more wild.

Tim noticed, as he was laughing, that Tony and Ziva and Jenny all looked very concerned. That figured. They couldn't ever be concerned when he was just quiet or withdrawn. It was only when really bad things happened that they worried. It was only when he was dressed in a hospital gown and no shoes. Only when he'd been tortured by the CIA. Only when he went missing for days on end. Only when...when his life was hanging on by a thread that could be lopped off at any time. That was the only time they seemed to care.

Then, Tim was crying.

The laughter disappeared as if it had never existed and Tim was crying. To his surprise, it wasn't Abby that comforted him. It was Gibbs. Tim felt a strange conflation of two conflicting emotions. The irrational part of him wanted to beat Gibbs to a bloody pulp for having put him in this situation to begin with. The more rational part just wanted someone to help him get back in control...because he knew...he knew very well that he was out of control right now.

He wondered if Gibbs would slap him like they did in the movies...or maybe, since movies were Tony's domain, he'd do the honors instead. And all the while, Tim cried. Then, he realized that he was speaking while he was crying. His mouth seemed to be moving without the input of his brain. He decided to actually pay attention to what he was saying. It wasn't particularly coherent and he figured that he was only embarrassing himself.

Someone touched his back. He flinched.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed through the tears.

Everything was silent. Tim looked at Gibbs who was facing him. Then, he looked at Tony and Ziva who were close by. He felt Abby, just behind him. Jenny was behind Gibbs. He looked at them all and for a moment, he thought he might just have regained some semblance of control over himself...but the moment passed and the tears started again.

"I can't do this anymore, Boss. I can't...I don't want to."

Kind hands, _not_ touching his back this time, led him to the autopsy table again. He sat down, feeling the hands supporting him, knowing that they wouldn't leave, knowing that as much as he wanted to keep them all safe, take all the danger on himself, he couldn't do that...and he really didn't _want_ to do that...not deep down. It made him feel ashamed.

The tears were coming more slowly now, but they didn't stop. Tim tried to start talking a couple of times, but he couldn't. His voice was too shaky, the tears choking his words. Suddenly, Ziva was there, looking at him, holding his hand as she had in the hospital...grounding him, helping him stay sane.

"You do not have to, McGee," she said softly, her words cutting through the tears that were still falling.

Tony put his hand on Tim's arm and gripped it tightly. Tim looked at it and then at Tony. He was surprised.

"You don't have to do it alone, Probie," Tony said. "Let us help."

His words were so like Abby's. Tim stared at Tony for a few more seconds and then around at the rest of them. He swallowed hard, reasserting the control that had served him so well in the past few weeks.

"How...how far did you get, Boss?" he asked.

Gibbs smiled, a bit sadly, Tim thought. "It's your story to tell, McGee."

Tim looked at him for a long moment, not sure what to do. He took another deep breath and expelled it shakily. He nodded.

"Okay," he said and began to explain.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

When Tim first began to laugh, Tony felt relieved...but only for a moment. Tim's laughter actually sounded less like he'd found something funny than as if he'd just lost his mind. There were no jokes this time around.

"Tim, are you okay?" Abby asked hesitantly. Tim just continued to laugh. Tony looked at Ziva who looked back at him with her eyes wide. Neither of them knew what to do. Tim was standing there, laughing...and he couldn't seem to stop.

Gibbs walked over to him and said, "Tim, you need to calm down. Take a breath."

Instead of looking at Gibbs, Tim, still laughing, looked at Tony and Ziva and Jenny. Something changed in his expression...although not very much...and he switched smoothly over to crying. Gibbs surprised everyone by hugging him. Tim continued to cry, but he started to try and speak as well. His words didn't make much sense.

"Falling...it's all over...they...never...no, I don't...can't get...and...I know...it's...I'm not...they...have me...and...keeps going...stop and ever...fault...frozen...time...and..."

It was like he was speaking whole sentences in his head, but only parts actually made it out of his mouth. Tim made such a pitiful image that they found themselves moving to him. It was just wrong for Tim to act this way and they wanted to help. Tony touched his back, actually trying to close the hospital gown to give Tim at least the illusion of modesty. Tim stiffened and pulled back from Gibbs, screaming for them to not touch him. It seemed to surprise even him. He looked around at them all for a few seconds before time caught up again and then he started to cry again, more calmly (if crying can be considered calm at all).

"I can't do this anymore, Boss. I can't...I don't want to."

One would have had to have no heart at all not to be affected by Tim's desolation. His attire only made it worse. Abby reached out and put her arms around his shoulders. Tony and Ziva each took and arm and helped Tim to the autopsy table. He sat down, hardly knowing what was happening. Ziva then took his hand as his mouth made shapes of words without sound.

"You do not have to, McGee," she said, trying to make him believe her just by the force of her words.

Tony, moved by some unconscious force, reached out and grabbed Tim's arm. He wanted to make up for his callous joke before. Tim actually seemed surprised by the gesture.

"You don't have to do it alone, Probie. Let us help."

Tim took a deep breath and it was shocking how quickly all the emotion left his face. Tim shouldn't be able to do that. Tim was the one who always wore his heart on his sleeve. He shouldn't be so...able to cover his emotions. As he started to explain everything that had happened, very calmly, completely belying his breakdown moments before, Tony wondered if he'd be able to keep it up...and then he wondered just how long he _had_ been keeping it up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"And so...that's my life...for the last two months anyway," Tim said. His throat felt annoyingly tight again and he looked down to calm himself once more. He heard three different inhalations and that forced him to look up. He decided that he wanted to be angry again. "Before you even ask," he bit out, "don't. I don't want to be asked why I didn't tell anyone sooner. I'm still regretting the necessity of telling you all now." At this, he glared at Gibbs who stared back without flinching until Tim was forced to look away. "I want to go home."

"What?" Four voices in unison. Tim was genuinely amused.

"You can't keep me in here forever, and they'll need to be in contact with me soon to have me do my job. Besides, I need my clothes."

"But..." Abby began.

"They'll expect me to be cautious...or rather they'll expect _you_ to be cautious for me...but if I am completely out of contact, they'll take more drastic measures...and I don't want to risk that."

"Drastic?" Tony asked.

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Tony? These are the kind of people who give the CIA a bad name. These are the people who will kill without thinking if they decide that it will help their cause."

"McGee, many people threaten without..." Ziva began.

Tim laughed at her outright. "Ziva, you should know better than me that there are people who really _are_ willing to kill. Do you think I was just sitting around at a computer for the last two months, running numbers? I _saw_ what they did. I've been working with them most weekends and quite a few nights. I'm not just making it up...and neither are they."

"McGee, did you ever consider that this is the reason they decided to use you?" Tony asked, a bit hesitantly.

"How do you mean?"

"They knew you wouldn't want to get us involved..so they threaten you and us by implication, knowing that you wouldn't want to risk dragging us into it."

"Does it matter, Tony? Whether they knew it or not, it's true...and I _don't_ want to risk it."

"Aren't we in danger anyway? What if you accidentally slipped up?" Abby asked. "Or if they decided that you had outlived your usefulness, wouldn't whoever happened to be with you at the time be in as much danger?"

"Abby, if you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," Tim muttered.

"Well, at least we know now," Abby insisted.

"We're wasting time," Jenny said, finally joining the conversation. "Whatever you _wish_ had not happened, is now the reality. I suggest you come to terms with that, Agent McGee, because we're all in it now...for good or ill. So, let's figure out how to get you out...so that we're _all_ out."

Tim nodded grudgingly, but everyone could see that he had no real hope of that happening. What he saw was that he had effectively put his closest friends in danger.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a very nice office. Leather padded chairs, real tropical wood desk...and one man, equally nicely dressed. He belonged in there. He thought about the upcoming meeting and wondered what new chaos was in store. There was always something.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So what now?" Tim asked.

"Now, we figure out how to get you out of this," Gibbs said.

"And how will you do that?" Tim asked, almost belligerently.

"First, we have to start watching the watchers."

Tim stood up to protest but then at a glance from Jenny, he sat back down mutely and didn't comment.

"Yes, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing, Boss."

Gibbs wasn't sure whether he preferred having Tim meekly assenting to everything said or having him protesting everything said. It might be a case of six of one and a half dozen of the other.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a barren room. One large table around which eleven chairs had been placed. Only two were empty at the moment. The nine men and women waited impatiently, but showed no sign of their impatience. Showing emotion was a dangerous thing...in _any_ context, but especially here. General meetings occurred only rarely...and usually only when there was something that had gone wrong.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stood up again and walked by everyone without speaking.

"Where are you going, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim didn't stop, but his pace did slow. "I don't think you need my input right now. I'm going to get my spare clothes. I hate walking around like this," he said and then continued out the door.

Everyone stared after him. He had not raised his voice. He had not acted ashamed or embarrassed. If they didn't know it, they would have assumed nothing was wrong...and that hurt.

"We can't do this without him, Boss," Tony said. "That would be like..."

"...like taking the choice away from him," Ziva finished. "Besides, he is the one who knows all the details. Even if we have to..."

"We're not going to torture him, Ziva," Abby protested.

"I was not going to suggest that we did, although it would probably work. No, _I_ was going to say even if we have to beg."

"Gibbs, you think I should–?" Abby began hesitantly.

"No, let me," Gibbs said and walked out of the room. Since he was the one being blamed...and was partially the one to blame anyway, he might as well be the one to talk to him this time around.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, who messed up?" the man asked.

"How do you know someone messed up?" the handler countered.

"You wouldn't be here, meeting with me _before_ the meeting, if there wasn't something going on...something that _someone_ did wrong. General concerns are addressed at the general meeting, not in a little tete-a-tete."

"Very well. We have a big problem."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked into the bullpen and over to his desk. He had finally begun keeping a spare change of clothes after being forced to wear his gym clothes, borrow Tony's shirt and become an Aquasmurf. However, he had not thought to keep a spare pair of shoes. He did have his gym shoes...down in the gym which would mean another stroll bare-footed. He was getting tired of that. He sat down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. The shirt was a little rumpled...but at least it _was_ a shirt.

Slowly, he slipped off the hospital gown. As he did so, he felt the slight stretching and soreness that he had felt last week. His throat tightened again. He shook his head. _One breakdown per day, Tim. You already made that deal with yourself two months ago. Just because things have gone haywire doesn't mean that the agreement doesn't still stand. Suck it up!_ The mental pep talk helped him regain his control and he pulled his shirt on. As he buttoned it up, the elevator dinged. Tim sighed to himself but didn't turn around. He wasn't sure who would be coming, but he knew _someone_ would be coming after him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

All the seats were now filled. No one moved. No one broke the silence. There was a chain of command...in everything, but especially at these meetings.

"An egregious error has been brought to my attention."

It seemed as though no one was even breathing.

"They know."

There was no question who _they_ were.

"How did they find out?"

"One guess."

That was a threat, not a suggestion.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim turned around. It was Gibbs. The logical, rational part of him knew that it wasn't Gibbs' fault that this group had found him, that he couldn't have anticipated this fallout, that he was trying to help now...but Tim didn't really want to be rational. He'd spent the last two months trying to be rational about it and he was tired of that...and of being bare-footed. He finished buttoning up his shirt and stood up again, intending to ignore Gibbs and walk down to the gym to get his shoes.

Gibbs didn't let him. As Tim walked by, he grabbed his arm and propelled him into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he flipped the oft-abused switch.

"Talk to me, McGee."

"About what, Boss?" Tim asked. "You already know everything."

"Why does that bother you so much, McGee?"

"Why? You shouldn't even have to _ask_ that. How would _you_ feel if you were single-handedly putting everyone at NCIS at risk? How would _you_ feel if you were too much of a weakling to do what was necessary?"

"What was necessary?" Gibbs repeated.

"Boss, don't you _get_ it? I tried so many times...every time a new...operation came up. I tried to say no. I knew if I said no that I'd be dead, but at least...at least I wouldn't helping them anymore. No matter how I try to justify it, the fact remains that I'm helping people who are...and I know it's melodramatic, but they're _evil_. These people don't care about due process or anything like that. They are judge, jury and executioner...especially executioner. The people they go after don't get a chance to explain themselves. They just die."

Tim felt himself getting angry again and beneath the anger was regret and fear.

"I should have said no," Tim finally admitted. He backed away from Gibbs and slid morosely down the wall to the floor of the elevator. He looked at his toes. They were dirty...no wonder after all the tramping around he'd been doing. "I should have said no the first time. I know that. We're not supposed to give in to bullies...to terrorists. People who use fear as a weapon are not supposed to win. Every time I capitulate, every time I've helped them succeed, I'm giving in. We don't give in to terrorists, but _I_ do...I _have_ every day of the last two months. One of our duties is to prevent terrorism, Boss. I'm _facilitating_ it."

"I thought you said these people were going after threats to this country."

"Supposedly, they are...but that really doesn't matter. Terrorism is terrorism, whether it's being used _by_ us or _against_ us. It's still terrorism. We're supposed to be above that. There are people who fight against it every day...and what am _I_ doing? I'm making the problem worse."

"By living?"

"Yes!" Tim wondered why Gibbs was being so obtuse.

Gibbs sat down across from Tim. "McGee, do you really think that dragging your feet is going to help protect us?"

Tim's irrational anger exploded. "Maybe if _you_ had thought for two seconds before bringing everyone else in...maybe if you had _thought_ about what could happen last year...maybe if _I_ had thought I would have been smarter than to say anything at all," Tim said bitterly. "I _trusted_ you, Boss. I trusted you last year when I hacked the CIA the first time. I trusted you today to...to keep everyone else safe. Do you _know_ what I've been doing? I've said it before. I'm _killing_ people, Boss! I may not be pulling the trigger, but I'm _killing_ them! I did what you asked me to do and now I'm killing people. I'm killing people because I don't want to die myself...and..."

Gibbs smiled sadly. "...and this is all my fault, isn't it?"

The anger bled away. "No, Boss. Not really. I know that you had no idea this would happen. I know that you didn't plan on it, that you took the steps you thought were necessary..."

"But they weren't enough, were they."

"Not this time," Tim said, staring at his feet again.

"I'm sorry, McGee. I really am, but we passed the point of no return a long time ago. We _have_ to go forward."

"There's no forward, Boss. There's only...there's only _this_."

"No, there's not, McGee. That's why you need us. You need people who still think something can be done."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

"We'll need to use McGee to help us find them again. They'll have gone to ground."

"But the NCIS people will be more careful of him, will they not?"

"Of course."

"But he knows that we will require his services?"

"Yes. I informed him of that fact."

"Then, he will make himself available?"

"Yes."

"You are certain?"

"Yes."

"Very well. You all know what to do. Do it."

They all scattered with no words being spoken. No one mentioned the body slumped in the chair. Failure was not an option. They all knew that.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Stay behind, please," the man said.

The handler paused and turned back at the doorway. Her eyes met his without flinching. "Yes?"

"We have a problem here," he said, slowly circling the table.

"Yes, we do."

"How will you get McGee away from his team? Now that they are aware of his involuntary participation, they will not easily let him out of sight."

"I'll send the signal and he'll get himself out."

"I've read your reports. He's been problematic from the start because of his team. They are too protective."

"Not enough. Even with all their precautions, McGee was still taken...from the Navy Yard no less."

"Are you sure that you have him appropriately cowed? I don't think we can assume he will help us willingly."

"I do. Given half a chance, he would abandon us, but we have done our best to keep that from happening."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's eyes were two hopeless pools as they stared at Gibbs sitting across the elevator. He hadn't bothered to answer when Gibbs had spoken. Gibbs, for his part, understood now more than ever what Tim was feeling. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right that Gibbs' actions had brought about this transformation in Tim. That made it _his_ responsibility to make things right again.

"How long do you think we have, McGee?"

"How long for what?" Tim asked, his voice a monotone.

"How long until they start actively looking for you."

Tim shrugged. His apathy was dangerous, and Gibbs was determined to keep him from falling back on that to avoid making choices and helping them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What exactly have you done?"

"Made him fully cognizant of the power we have."

"That's slightly unorthodox. We usually keep something back to bring out when necessary."

"Timothy McGee is not usual. Not only does he have a strong support base in his team, but he is also the kind of person who needs to know _exactly_ how bad something is."

"Did you discover that from your reconnaissance?"

"Among other things. Suffice it to say that he _knows _what we could do if he failed...and if he betrays us."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What is that they have on you, McGee? You said that they know everything about you."

Tim smiled humorlessly. "Yes...basically everything. They know how I think. They know what I do...they know...who I..."

"What?"

Tim looked at the ceiling. "They know who I care about the most."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"How did you do that, pray tell?"

"I went to his hometown."

The man was silent for a few seconds. "That's...that's pretty low, even for you."

"We always scout out the family. I just made it obvious."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Your family?"

"Among others," Tim said, still staring at the ceiling. "I have some video files on my computer that I watch every so often."

"What are they?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You gave him _copies_? Are you crazy?"

"No." The handler smiled. "He watches them...without urging."

"Why would he?"

"To remind himself of what he stands to lose. He's very..._responsible_." She said the word with distaste.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Clips that my handler took from the daily lives of the people I care about. She dropped in on one of my dad's classes. I have a clip of my mother doing laundry...at home. There's a small video of Tony watching a movie in his apartment, Ziva..." Tim laughed. "...sleeping. Abby at a club. You working on your boat. You have nice technique." Tim laughed again. "Ducky with his mother. Sarah hanging out with her friends. The list goes on. The worst one was Sarah. My handler actually approached her, just to show how easy it would be for her to get to you all."

Tim looked at Gibbs, his voice giving out, but his eyes conveying how much those videos tormented him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You know what will happen if this operation falls apart?"

"Yes."

"Are you prepared to risk that by relying on this..._responsible_ man?"

"Do you have someone else in mind?" the handler asked sarcastically. "We chose him for a reason. He's good...better now than when he hacked us before."

"Very well. Go ahead. You have carte blanche in this op."

"Yes, sir." The handler turned around and left the room.

The only one remaining was the man...and the corpse. He looked around at his barren surroundings and sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. His gut was telling him that in spite of Timothy McGee's talents, they would have done better to forget about him and use someone else. There was something about Timothy McGee...he was too good a person to submit docilely to their power. He had been surprised to see that it was him who had been the hacker. Most hackers, or would-be hackers were a bit more...fast and loose with the rules.

"I'm going to regret this," he said aloud. Then, he looked over his shoulder at the body still slumped in its chair and made a mental note to get it taken care of...then, he left as well.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim suddenly stood up. Gibbs did not.

"I had a dream once," Tim said softly.

"Of what?"

"I failed. They killed me. I saw them leaving my body in my apartment, slumped on the computer chair, and I tried to run to you all, to warn you to get away."

"What happened?"

"I couldn't make you hear me. I tried. I yelled. I screamed for you to get away...but you didn't hear. You couldn't. Everyone died, one after another...except you, Boss."

Gibbs stood up, not wanting hear why he alone had not died, but knowing that Tim wouldn't have said it if he didn't _want_ him to know. Another turn of the screw...

"Why not me?"

Tim was staring at the emergency switch. "They couldn't find you. You were hiding in here, in the elevator, and they couldn't find you. You just sat in here while everyone else screamed and died."

Gibbs winced inwardly. That hurt. It really hurt that Tim felt that way, that he thought Gibbs would stay in safety while everyone else died...but he didn't say anything about it. He just nodded.

Tim turned his attention from the switch and met Gibbs' eyes. He didn't look away. It was rather similar to their confrontation when Sarah had been accused of murder.

"Tell me, Boss."

"What, McGee?" Gibbs was surprised at the feeling he had. He felt smaller than Tim. He'd never felt that way before, even taking their different heights into account.

Tim's gaze was intense...and pleading. "If I do this, if I try to get free, if I ignore their warnings, I want you to tell me that you'll be there. I want you to promise that no one's going to die this time. No bullets from a rooftop, no car bombs, no finding them dead on their kitchen floor. I want you to tell me that it won't happen that way, that they won't win this time."

"McGee..." Gibbs began. Tim couldn't seriously think that he could make that kind of a promise. He couldn't promise that they'd survive a regular work day. Kate hadn't. Paula hadn't.

"Promise, Boss," Tim said. "I need you to promise."

"Why?"

"Because...if you say it, I'll believe you," Tim said. He hesitated because he felt like a horrible person for asking this of Gibbs. He knew exactly what he was doing. If Gibbs promised, then he would have to be dead before he would break that promise. Tim felt terrible, but he was still asking it. Something inside him _needed_ the security that a promise from Gibbs could bring. He knew he was deliberately manipulating his boss, playing off the guilt he was sure to be feeling, but...still, he was doing it. He was ruthlessly using Gibbs to keep him...and everyone else safe. Did the ends justify the means? Normally, Tim would say no, but this time...he wasn't sure that he cared. He had too many people's lives depending on his ability to do things correctly. He wanted to share that load because it felt too heavy for him to carry.

It was wrong. It was unfair. It was cruel. And yet Tim was doing it anyway. He refused to look away. He refused to show how soiled he felt at doing this to the man he respected probably more than anyone else besides his father. _Desperate times call for desperate measures...if I were any more desperate, I'd be raving mad...I may end up that way anyway,_ Tim thought to himself, trying to rid himself of the guilt, to justify his actions. _I need his help. I need him to be there when I screw up and they come after everyone._ For some reason, it never entered his mind that Gibbs would be there anyway, that Gibbs, indeed _all_ of them, but Gibbs especially, would never let Tim go through this on his own.

Gibbs met Tim's gaze...but he met a wall, not the windows to the soul that Tim's eyes usually were. Tim didn't want to let anyone know how he was feeling. Gibbs had his suspicions, but he also was aware that Tim had his reasons. He _wanted_ to promise, but he couldn't do that and be honest.

"McGee, I can't promise that no one will get hurt." There was a flash of something in Tim's eyes. Gibbs wasn't sure what it was. As astute as he usually was, Tim was confusing him. "...but I can promise that I'll be there, that I'll do my best."

Tim held his gaze for a few more silent seconds. Then, he said softly, "What if your best isn't enough?"

Gibbs felt as though Tim were deliberately wounding him, although Tim had rarely done that to _anyone_ without feeling like a heel afterward. Now, he was showing nothing. Gibbs wanted to break through that wall, that barrier. He wanted to let the real Tim back out because this new Tim was awful to see.

"Are you talking about me or about yourself?" he asked bluntly, hoping to shake Tim enough that he showed..._something_. It didn't work. Tim remained as stoic as ever. He turned back and flipped the switch.

"I need to go to the gym. I'm tired of walking around with no shoes. It'll look stupid, but at least my feet will be covered."

"Okay, McGee," Gibbs said knowing that whatever confiding Tim had been doing was now over. He had full and complete control of himself again. "I'll meet you back in Autopsy."

"Yes, that's fine. I'll be there."

Gibbs got off the elevator when it opened and looked back at Tim once as the doors closed again. Just before the doors closed, he saw Tim's head drop, a look of desolation on his face. At least the emotions were still there...even if he seemed determined not to show them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim found that each step he took toward the locker room was like stabbing daggers into his body. All that cruelty on his part and he hadn't even achieved his goal. He just wasn't cut out for subterfuge, obviously. He opened his locker and thanked his over-preparedness that he had brought an extra pair of socks...just in case he ever forgot. He pulled them on and then pulled on his sneakers and grimaced at the silliness of his attire. It was a welcome focus from the mess he was in. He could still feel the desire to start crying, to start screaming out his anguish, but it was in hand. He could wait...wait until he was alone, although he wasn't sure when that would be...but he'd find a time. He'd find a way...tomorrow. He truly _had_ made a deal with himself. He'd even written it down and signed it...in a rare moment of whimsy.

_I, the undersigned, do solemnly swear and aver that I will not lose my control more than once a day. I also solemnly swear that I will only do so in the rare moments of solitude, within my shower or outside where _they_ cannot hear me. I pledge my intention to keep _them_ from knowing that I am slowly falling apart from the inside out in my time of employment. I swear that I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing. I pledge my whole being to the cause of keeping myself firmly controlled so that I do not place my friends and family in danger. I will not reveal to them the horrors I have seen and abetted._

_Signed, Timothy McGee_

It almost pained him to think of it now. He had failed at part, but not the whole. He could still recover the control...and _they_ didn't know about it, not yet. If they did, she would have used it against him. He sighed and stood. ...back to Autopsy...back to planning. He felt as though he were walking onto a field of battle, not into a morgue.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Tim sighed to himself. This was so frustrating...and, although he couldn't quite admit it to himself, so _pointless_. He let the sigh out and tried to explain it all again.

"No. You can't tap into their feed. They'll know. No, I can't install another bug in my apartment directing back here. They'll know. Unless I put it in the bathroom...and there's no point to putting it in there anyway. Nothing happens in there." Tim saw Tony about to make a crack and pushed on before he could relieve the tension by being funny. "No, you can't just tail them. They know who you all are. No, you can't follow them in your own cars. They're bugged, too. No, I can't just stay at one of your apartments. They've bugged them all. No, you can't remove the bugs. That will tip them off right away." Tim struggled to keep his voice calm and direct...but it was getting harder and harder when they kept insisting that they could do something about it. "Don't you see? The only way is for me to leave here and go back to my apartment...but we can't just do it that way because they know you. They know you wouldn't just let me leave. They'll be suspicious."

No one could think of anything to say. The revelation that their homes had been bugged for the last two months was rather disconcerting. Tim felt awful about that, too, but he couldn't let them see it. He'd only barely been able to force himself to look at Gibbs.

"Do they check _you_ for bugs, Tim?" Abby asked suddenly.

Tim looked at her. It wasn't hard to do. By unspoken consent, Tim was sitting on the Autopsy table again. Everyone else was arranged around him...staring at him. He didn't like that, but it wasn't worth complaining about.

"She hasn't when she comes to my apartment, but there's no guarantee that they won't start."

"What if we put a wire or something on _you?_ That might be enough to start with."

"That won't work," Tim said, starting to feel slightly panicky.

"Why not, Probie? You just said that they haven't searched you at your apartment," Tony said, looking confused.

"They...they don't scan me at my apartment."

"Where else do you see them?"

Tim knew it was stupid for him to be so reticent to talk about it when he'd already agreed to help, but it was hard to just sit here and casually tell them everything he'd done and everywhere he'd gone.

"They have a...a place where I...help run the ops."

"Is it in McLean?" Jenny asked.

"No. It's in DC."

Tony suddenly chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Tim asked, not sure whether he was relieved or annoyed.

"Getting information from you, McGee, is harder than getting Ziva to give up all her weaponry."

Tim couldn't smile. He tried to force his lips into something resembling a grin, but he couldn't...and if he couldn't then... "It's about as dangerous," he said and felt a strange sense of satisfaction when Tony's smile faded.

Then, he felt badly about that and tried to bring it back...lamely. "Maybe I could get a shoe phone like on _Get Smart_."

No one laughed.

Tim swallowed and then pushed on. "No, really! I always wanted one of those. It could have a nice little antenna that Abby could program into my shoe laces and...well...I guess you'd have to update it bit." If anything, everyone looked worse. Tim couldn't bear that. "You'd need to make it into some sort of shoe version of the I-Phone. I'd need to have internet and a nice little viewing screen set into the heel..."

Suddenly, Abby was hugging him...gently. Tim's words stuttered and stopped.

"It's okay, Tim."

Tim wasn't going to let himself off the hook as easily as Abby was. "No, it's not, Abby. It's not okay." He gently pushed her away and stood up. "Put a wire on me. They'll be looking for me soon because I told them something they didn't know."

"What was that?" Gibbs asked. He noticed that Tim didn't look at him.

"They didn't know about the CIA group using Morris. They weren't doing it on orders from my handler. I don't know why they were, but it surprised her. Then, she said that I might be needed sooner than I thought. I was a bit...flippant, and I didn't think it through." Tim's hand strayed absently to the cut on his neck. "...but before that, she had said that someone in the CIA was trying to find their group. It might those people who were...testing me. I think that's what she was thinking."

"Does your handler have a name, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"No. None of them do...not even in the files I've seen. They have titles. Whether they refer to each other by name, I don't know. I've only seen someone besides my handler twice." Tim winced at the memory. "Neither time was particularly pleasant, although I'm not likely to forget them."

"Tell us how this would work, McGee," Jenny said.

"How what would work, Director?" Tim asked.

Jenny walked closer to the table and essentially forced Tim to sit down again. Then, she looked him in the eye.

"I want to know how an operation run by these people, using _you_ would work...from the beginning to the end. If we're going to get involved in this, we need to know what to expect. So, give us an example."

Of all the things Tim _didn't_ want to tell them, describing a typical operation was very high on the list...but he knew he had no choice. He sighed. "Domestic or international?" he asked in resignation, hoping for the latter.

"This will be domestic, will it not?"

"Yes, most likely."

"Then, domestic."

Tim nodded. The domestic missions were the ones he hated the most. They had caused the most sleepless nights.

"Okay, do you remember last month there was a...a missing person, a woman named Ana Pierson?"

"Yeah. She was a...a school teacher, right?" Tony asked. "They found her body in a field somewhere. From an...anonymous...tip..." Tony trailed off as Tim looked at the floor. "Probie...you?"

Tim nodded, not looking up. "She saw something she shouldn't have...and she was going to report it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One month earlier...Wednesday, 3:25 a.m._

_Tim rolled over in bed at the beeping on his phone. He picked it up and looked at the number that was displayed. He sighed and looked unerringly in the direction of the camera filming him. Instead of answering, he got up and got dressed. He didn't bother retreating to the bathroom to maintain an illusion of privacy. He just grabbed the clothes he always had at hand and pulled them on. Then, he grabbed a bag from the back of his closet and walked out of his apartment silently. _

_It took him all of five minutes to get to the meeting place about two blocks from his apartment building. He appeared to be alone...he wasn't._

"_You're late," a female voice whispered in his ear, a knife at his waist. He barely stiffened._

"_Thirty seconds late," he said softly._

"_We're on the clock, Timmy. I expect you to respect our timetable."_

"_I have nothing but the utmost respect for your...timetable," Tim replied, sarcastically. Every time he did this, he hoped that his handler would snap and kill him...but she never did. He'd probably have another scar though. He hissed suddenly as she dragged the knife just above his waistline. Yep, another scar. He had to treat all these little scratches himself because knife wounds would have to be reported at a hospital._

"_We're wasting more time. Let's go," she said and then looped her arm through his and led him to the waiting car. Tim didn't resist. There didn't seem to be a point._

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

_When they pulled up to the apartment building, Tim was struck anew at how odd it was for black ops missions to be run out of a downtown DC apartment building. He was given no time to think about it, however. His handler led him inside and up to the tenth floor apartment that had been converted into their center of operations. As usual, it was empty. His handler pointed to his assigned seat._

"_This is who we're looking for. She shouldn't be hard to find, but when we find her, you have to keep pace with her and then black out the..."_

"_Yeah, I know. I have to make it so that this never happened. This isn't my first time," Tim said, thinking that he only wished it was. "Who is she?"_

"_Does it matter?"_

"_If I'm going to be looking in the right places, it does."_

"_She's a third grade teacher," she said. Then, at Tim's horror-struck expression, she laughed. "Oh, please. No one's innocent in this world."_

"_What did she do?"_

"_She saw us. She's going to report it."_

"_Why hasn't she already?"_

"_Because she was with her family at the time. She doesn't want to put them in danger."_

"_She has a family?"_

_Indifferently, his handler answered, "Husband, three children. All adopted. She couldn't have children herself."_

"_What if...what if they're with her?"_

_She shrugged. Tim turned to the computer and began his search. These programs were linked into CIA satellites, regular GPS, traffic cameras, everything. He could find someone more quickly using this than a person could while physically following them. He really wished they had these kinds of resources at NCIS. Quickly, he tamped down on that line of thinking. He couldn't do this job if he was thinking about anything other than the task at hand. He had to essentially shut himself down and be nothing more than an extension of the computers he used._

_It took about ten minutes to find her...alone. Tim was relieved for that. He didn't think he could stand a repeat of last week's performance._

"_Got her. She's walking."_

"_Send the coordinates."_

"_Done."_

"_Good. Now, we wait."_

_Tim hated this part because he was always hoping that they failed...but he was also, sort of, hoping that they wouldn't. He didn't show a thing. He had learned well to show nothing. Anything he revealed was used against him. He knew his handler was watching him. She had been watching him ever since they'd stepped into the room. Technically, she could use this program herself, but he understood it. He knew everything about it...he should. He had written it._

_There was a suddenly click. "We're in position. Prepare blackout."_

"_Preparing," Tim replied. The monitor on his right sprang to life as lines of code flashed in front of his eyes. He tried to focus only on that so that he wouldn't see the video feed on the monitor to his left. He set up the program to show a previously recorded ten seconds. It wouldn't take any longer than that. He knew it._

"_Faster, Timmy," his handler ordered._

"_Done. You have green light."_

"_Copy that."_

"_On my count. Three...two...one...blackout." Tim began to count silently ten seconds...it was over in five._

"_Target eliminated. Prepare following blackout on escape route."_

"_Preparing." Tim began to set up the next step: covering their tracks as they evacuated. "Ready. On my count. Three...two...one...rollout."_

"_Rolling."_

_Like clockwork, the group began their evacuation, taking the body of their target with them. She would be dumped somewhere isolated where it was unlikely that she'd be found. If she was, there was no evidence pointing back to them. There never was._

_Ten minutes later, it was over._

"_Well done, Timmy. Let's go."_

_Numb, Tim stood and followed without comment._

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

_Twenty minutes later, he stumbled into his apartment, into the bedroom and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, as hot as he could stand it and stepped inside. Once he was under the spray, he began to sob. He fell to the floor of the tub and cried and cried._

_He didn't bother throwing the shirt away. He ran it through the wash and returned it to its place. Why ruin more than one shirt?_

_Tim waited two days before placing an anonymous call to the police hotline. He scrambled the call and made it short enough that they couldn't trace him._

"_I know where Ana Pierson is."_

"_What?"_

"_I know where Ana Pierson. She's dead. Look for her in Virginia, twenty miles west of McLean."_

"_Where?"_

"_That's where you'll find her. Please, don't report that you had a tip. They'll know it was me and more people will die. Just look there." Tim hung up and went to work._

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

_Present..._

"Tim..." Abby said and stopped.

"That's generally how things work," Tim said. The only part he had not told them was how he had cried in the shower for twenty minutes before the tears ebbed enough that he could turn off the water and not be heard. "I try to direct the police to the people who have families worrying about them, but I can't do it too often or they'll get suspicious. The international ops work differently. They take longer and I'm generally working all night." Tim didn't look up. He didn't want to see their faces. He didn't want to know if what he thought they were feeling was accurate. "So...I'll need to get my cell phone back. I hope you thought to get it from the house."

"Yeah, we stopped by there on our way. The CIA team was long gone. Even most of the equipment was gone," Tony said, his voice a little shaken.

"Yeah, that's standard," Tim said. "I could do the same."

"They always contact you by phone?" Gibbs asked.

Tim winced at the sound of his voice. "Yes. The number that comes up tells me how long I have before they come and get me."

"What happens if you're too slow?" Tony asked.

"They punish you, do they not?" Ziva asked.

Tim nodded. "It's only happened twice. They did it on my legs both times because I'm nearly always wearing pants." He judged that the initial revulsion might have passed and he risked looking up, knowing that if there was a hint of condemnation on anyone's face, he wouldn't be able to take it.

The horror was almost worse, but somehow it made it easier. He had gotten over the horror of his position. The self-condemnation was always there, but the horror had passed.

"So...you going to wire me or do I need to do it myself?" he asked and this time, he was able to force a smile. "...although..." His smile grew slightly wider as he looked at Abby. "...I still wouldn't say no to a shoe phone."

A tear fell from Abby's eyes, but she smiled too. "I don't think I have time to make one, Tim."

"All right. Next time."

She hugged him fiercely. "No next times, Tim. No more. This is the last time."

Tim put his arms around her and held her tightly. "If only you could be right, Abby."

"I am. I _am_!" She pulled back. "Now, let's get you wired." She tried to smile again.

"We'll use Lovitz's team cars for this. He won't mind," Jenny said. Then, she smiled. "If he does, I'll let him know that it's Gibbs' fault."

Before Tim could protest again, Gibbs jumped in. "We have to have some way of following you, McGee. Otherwise, this is all pointless."

"You're right, Boss," Tim said. "I know. You're right."

"I'll go get your phone, Probie."

"Thanks, Tony."

"I will come with you and Abby," Ziva said and followed them out of the room. Before Tony could leave, Gibbs stopped him.

"Tony."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Abby's right."

"About what, Boss?"

"This has to be the last time," Jenny said. "I don't think McGee can last too much longer. I've had experience with groups less dangerous and people in McGee's position _always_ outlive their usefulness eventually. We have to get us all out before that happens."

"Boss...what McGee's done...I never thought he could."

Gibbs smiled humorlessly. "Neither did I, DiNozzo. Neither did I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm sending the signal now. We'll give him ten hours," the handler said.

"We'll be in position."

"As always," she said and smiled.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tony was heading to Abby's lab, Tim's phone in hand when it started to beep. Without thinking, he answered.

"Yello..." he said casually and then deepened his voice. "You've reached the phone of Special Agent...Timothy McGee, aka Probie-san. What can I do for you?"

There was a long silence and then a hang up. Tony looked at the phone with a dawning comprehension. "Uh-oh."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So, where can we put it, Tim?" Abby asked, trying to be all business-like, trying to pretend that the revelation that Tim had a hand in the murder of a third-grade teacher didn't affect her at all. It was a complete lie. She knew it. She knew that Tim could tell, but she just wanted to maintain the illusion...and it seemed as though Tim was willing to let her.

"Let me think. I'm not sure. I'm never sure where she'll..." Tim stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"What, Tim?"

Tim met Abby's gaze unflinching and said, "I'm never sure where she'll decide to cut me. They're not bad...but I think she enjoys finding a reason to do it." He touched the cut on his neck again. "She'll probably regret doing this. It shows. People can see it...but...probably my chest is the safest place. It's harder for her to cut me there. More awkward angles. She prefers the sides."

The clinical part of Ziva's mind was nodding in agreement with what Tim was saying. Yes, sides were definitely easier than the front, particularly for a woman who was smaller than Tim. There was less chance of being caught unawares. The human part was horrified that Tim could relate these events so calmly...but she also had caught in his eyes something that said his nonchalance was covering up a horror so deep that it couldn't be expressed, much like his laughter before. Laugh or cry...or if it's bad enough, you do both. If it gets beyond that, you don't do anything at all. You wall it off. That's what Tim was doing.

"Okay..." Abby said, not able to be as clinical as the other two.

Tim began to undo his shirt. "Oh...I should have a t-shirt underneath this. If I have to change, I don't want to flash my duplicity. I think it's highly unlikely that they'll miss it." He smiled again.

"Do you have anything here?"

"No...oh, yes. I do. I have a spare t-shirt in my locker in the gym."

"I will get it," Ziva said.

Tim nodded and followed her progress out the door. Then, he sat down on the stool and looked at Abby. He could see how horrified she was. He reached out and cupped her cheek. He tried to smile, but when he wasn't being ironic, smiling felt foreign to him.

"I always did want to be undercover," he said, trying to joke.

Abby started to cry and flung her arms around him again. "Oh, Tim. Stop being so brave! This is terrible!"

Tim didn't answer, but he did hug her almost as tightly as she hugged him.

"Hey, Probie!" Tony said as he walked in. Tim let go of Abby almost immediately. She took a little longer.

"What is it, Tony? You got my phone?"

"Uh, yeah...it rang while I was coming down...and, uh, well..."

"You answered, didn't you," Tim said.

"Yeah."

"It won't matter...unless you intimated that you knew anything. What did you say?"

"Just that they'd..." Tony put on an innocent look. "...managed to reach your phone."

"So, you were being typical you. That shouldn't be a problem. Let me see it." Tim held out his hand and looked at the number. He nodded. "I have ten hours. I hope that's enough time."

"Well, we'll just have to _make_ it enough, won't we?" Tony said bracingly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva hurried down to the locker room...but not too quickly. She wanted to take some time to absorb all they had learned. She knew that was why Tony had offered to get Tim's phone. It wasn't altruism. It was a desperation to have time to think...and all she could think was that Tim had become more like she herself was than she had ever thought possible. It got easier and easier to pretend that it didn't hurt, to pretend that the death made no difference...or that it was a good thing. She wondered how many times Tim had been forced to help find and kill someone under the employment of this group. She knew, however, that she wouldn't ask. Tim was not as calloused as she was. He was still innocent enough to feel the guilt. It would be pure agony for him to be forced to recount every operation.

She reached the locker room and opened his locker. She smiled at the tidiness of the space. His t-shirt was folded neatly and lying at the bottom. She picked it up and as she did so, a sheet of paper floated to the floor. Curious, she bent down and retrieved it. Ziva recognized Tim's signature right away. As she read it, she felt rare tears in her eyes.

_I pledge my intention to keep _them_ from knowing that I am slowly falling apart from the inside out in my time of employment. _Tim was very good at being brutally honest with himself...even if he hid things from everyone else. He knew exactly what his work was doing to him. _I pledge my whole being to the cause of keeping myself firmly controlled so that I do not place my friends and family in danger. _The association of control with safety was all too common, Ziva knew. When everything else was out of one's control, the one thing that _could_ be controlled was embraced as vital to survival._ I will not reveal to them the horrors I have seen and abetted._ But he had. Under duress, yes, but Tim _had_ revealed some of what he had done. What he wasn't doing was letting them see how he felt about it. Still that all-important control. It was rather melodramatic to actually write something like this down, but Tim had...and he had signed it. He had made a deal.

"Ziva?"

"Tony, what are you doing down here? Did you get lost?" Ziva asked, wiping her eyes quickly.

"I was going to ask _you_ that question. What's taking you so long? Probie's ready to get dressed."

"I am sorry." Ziva stood and began to walk past him, but he stopped her.

"Hey, what's wrong? Besides the obvious."

"Nothing, Tony."

"Wow, I think you and Probie have switched in being able to lie convincingly. That was terrible. What is it?"

Wordlessly, Ziva held out Tim's deal...with himself. Tony took it and began to read, his brow furrowed in confusion. The lines smoothed out as he began to understand.

"Where did you find this?"

"In his locker."

"Smart, really. Who's going to search through a gym locker...even McGee's?" Tony smiled...a smile to keep away the pain. "You know...this is wrong in so many ways."

"Yes, it is. I understand why they chose McGee, but it does not seem fair."

"He won't show anything to us again, will he."

"More than likely not. I think it was too much at once before. Now, he is ready again."

"I kind of miss the old McGee."

"He has not been the old McGee for weeks, Tony. That is worse. We did not even know."

"Yeah." Tony put the signed oath back in Tim's locker and walked out of the gym.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Ziva and Tony came back into the lab, Tim was still sitting quietly on the stool. He was wired with the receiver placed just below his sternum. He stood when he saw his t-shirt. They could tell that he had noticed their silence, but he didn't acknowledge it. He just took the shirt and pulled it on. As he pulled it over his head, they suddenly noticed four very faint scars...along the side of his ribcage...and one just above his waistline. The stretched skin, momentarily made them visible. The three of them stared...and then, they disappeared as Tim pulled the shirt down and tucked it into his pants. He looked at them and his eyes begged them not to ask as he turned around and put the wrinkled spare shirt on over top. He focused on doing up the buttons so that he didn't have to look at them.

"There we go. Out of sight...out of mind?" he asked.

"I'd never guess it was there, Tim," Abby said, her voice choked.

"Great. We should probably go back down to Autopsy to plan our next move." Tim walked out ahead of them and didn't look back.

"I _hate_ this," Abby whispered.

Tony nodded, but just said, "Well, you heard the man. Let's go."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Five hours later..._

"So that's it, then?" Tim asked. He looked around at everyone. The expressions on their faces hadn't changed much, but at least now they were focused on the task at hand rather than specifically on Tim himself. He wondered if they would ever forgive him.

"Yeah, I think that's covered it," Gibbs said. His gut was telling him that something was still wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Tim certainly wasn't helping. He still wouldn't look at Gibbs any more than he had to.

"I have a few hours. I'm going to try to sleep...if I can. I'm sure this will take a long time. I'll be up at my desk."

"Tim, you don't have to sleep there!" Abby protested.

Tim smiled. It was that same smile that really meant nothing. "Yeah, I do, Abby. Believe me. I do."

"Okay, then. DiNozzo, David. Go and check out Lovitz's cars. Let me know if there are any problems. Abby..."

Abby tore her eyes off Tim who was still standing there, smiling faintly. "I have some...some tests I need to run today."

Gibbs nodded. Everyone began to leave...except for Jenny. She had been silent through most of the previous few hours, letting everyone else plan the details. She'd been watching Tim himself and just once...she had caught something in his eyes.

"Agent McGee, could you stay behind for a moment?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tim said instantly. Gibbs stopped for a moment at the doors, but Jenny jerked her head to tell him to go. Tim never looked at him. "What is it?"

"I want your guarantee that you'll follow this plan."

"Of course, I will, ma'am. That's why I'm here...to help make a plan."

"That's not what I said. Tell me that you aren't going to go off on your own. Promise me that."

Tim almost laughed. It was nearly funny to have his own manipulating words used on him. Tim knew that he couldn't break his promise once he gave it. Jenny knew that as well...but what she didn't know was that he could promise without explaining himself.

"I promise, Director. I'll follow the plan." _Up to a point..._

Jenny didn't feel satisfied by that. She had the same feeling that Gibbs did, but Tim still wasn't revealing anything.

"Very well, McGee. Go and get some sleep. If anyone deserves it, you do."

Tim turned around and began to leave...but he stopped and turned back. The wall didn't fall, but Tim asked the one question he really needed an answer to. It wasn't _why_ or _how_ or _what_. He didn't care about the details. He'd had too many nights of details. It was a simple thing he wanted to know.

"Do you think I can get past this...even if, by some miracle, this works...do you think I can...if not forget, at least, _accept_ what I've done?"

"I don't know, Tim. I really don't. It's up to you, not me. I think you have it in you...but it will be hard."

Tim nodded, still showing nothing, and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim fell asleep as soon as he pillowed his head on his arms, ignoring Gibbs' glance, trying to brazen out his cruelty. His sleep, however needed, was not peaceful. As soon as he drifted off, he began to dream...and bitter dreams they were.

"_Don't send them, Tim. Don't let them kill me," Ana begged..._

"_Where is he? Tell me!" the shadows ordered as he burned in the light..._

"_Mommy!" A child sat crying in the street. Blood ran down into the gutters..._

"_Tell me what I want to know! Do it! Now!" The demands coalesced into an image. A picture. A face he knew...but didn't..._

"_I'm innocent. It's a mistake," the dead said from decaying mouths..._

"_Do it or die...refuse and they'll all die," his handler said, pointing her gun at his family. Then, before he could stop her, she began firing...but Gibbs was there. All the bullets hit him instead. He fell to the ground, blood coming from dozens of bullet wounds..._

"No!" Tim sat up, nearly hyperventilating. The bullpen was empty. His mouth was open as air noisily moved in and out. In and out. He brought both hands to his head, covering his eyes, trying to shut out the image of Gibbs dead...of all the other dead. The images just wouldn't go away. His open palms slid up to his forehead. _I need to let it out. It's killing me._ There was only one place he could go and know that he'd be alone. He stood up and ran to the elevator. He pushed the button frantically. The doors opened. It was empty, thank goodness. He nearly ran into it and pushed a button. It didn't matter which one because it would only be moving for a moment. As soon as the elevator started up, he flipped the switch. Then, he sank to his knees and began to sob.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He hadn't been alone. Gibbs and Tony had been talking up above when Tim had shouted and sat up. Tony had started to move toward him, but Gibbs held him back. They watched as he struggled to calm down. Whatever he had dreamt had destroyed the wall...at least for the moment. They watched as Tim suddenly stood and ran to the elevator.

"Where is he going?" Tony whispered.

"Nowhere," Gibbs said. "He's making sure he's alone."

"He shouldn't be alone, Boss," Tony protested as the doors closed.

"You're right, but right now, he doesn't care about that. All he cares about is doing something that _he _thinks is right. I won't take that illusion from him if I don't have to." _Or the illusion that I can somehow fix everything that's gone wrong._

Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened again and Tim walked back out. His eyes were red, but that was the only evidence of any sort of breakdown. He sat at his desk and made a show of working. Gibbs nudged Tony and they descended. Tony wasn't happy about it, but he didn't say anything about what he had seen...and Tim, of course, didn't bring it up either.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He sighed. Another meeting. It took time to drive to all these different places. That was the problem of wearing more than one hat. It would be easier just to give up the day job, but that would cut him off from a lot of important access and information. He sighed again and opened the door.

"You're late, Laurence."

"Yes, I know. I do apologize."

"We're just getting started," said the man at the head of the table.

"Thank you, Director," he said and sat down. In his head, he was thinking how entertaining it was that the Director of the CIA had no idea that the head of the group he had secretly set up a team to find was one of his advisors. He smiled and took the folder of the agenda that evening's meeting. Needless to say, no one would be killed at _this_ table. _Pity._


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Tim looked at the clock again...it was time. He looked around the bullpen. It was time to start the charade. He stood up and walked toward the elevator.

"Hey, Probie, where you going?" Tony asked, sitting up suddenly. He looked slightly concerned.

"Just around, Tony. They won't get me. I promise." Tim's throat threatened to close up as he spoke the lie.

"Well, don't go wandering off again. You have worse luck than Baby Jessica."

Tim laughed, smiling for real...for just a moment. "Tony, you need to work on your comparisons."

"I'll do that. Watch your back."

"I will." Tim walked to the elevator and got on. He went to the ground floor and walked out the main entrance...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Half an hour later, he walked into his apartment. He walked into his bedroom, casting his usual glances at the cameras. He took a deep breath and removed his shirt, grabbing his usual work shirt. It had five or six rips in it, but he wasn't trying to win any beauty contests. Then, he walked to the closet and grabbed his bag. He looked around his apartment, wondering if it would be the last time. Then, he left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's moving. He hasn't said anything yet."

Gibbs nodded mutely, not revealing how much this worried him. They were blocks away from the place where Tim had said the meeting would take place, dependent upon a person who had spent the last two months keeping things from them...to protect them. He really wished that he could do what Tim wanted him to do. It would be nice if he was the superhero Tim seemed think he was. ...but he wasn't.

Then, his thoughts were interrupted by Tim's voice.

"_I'm here."_

"_You're late."_ The female voice was fairly dripping with disdain.

"_No, I'm not. Not this time."_ Then, Tim made a soft sound.

"_Don't contradict me, Timmy."_

"_Then, don't lie."_ Tim replied sarcastically and then hissed again.

"_We're wasting time we don't have. Let's go."_

Tim didn't reply, but the moment they heard the car door open and close, Tony turned off the microphone. They couldn't risk Tim's handler scanning for transmissions. Instead, they started following.

"_They just took a left about a block from the park," _Jenny reported from MTAC.

"Right," Tony said and then chuckled. "Left, right, left." He grinned. Gibbs did not. "Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs didn't answer. He just followed Jenny's directions. He knew Abby was in MTAC, unable to keep herself separated from the action...it was probably for the best. She would have trouble keeping things to herself. Ziva was already in position at the building. Suddenly, he realized that they had no idea where in the building Tim would be. How in the world had Tim managed to get around giving them that vital information? He thought back, trying to figure it out. When had Tim grown so cleverly manipulative?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It seemed to take forever, but it was really only about half an hour before the small burst signaled Tim's safety. Tony turned back on the feed.

"_What am I doing tonight?"_ Tim's voice was all business. No emotion. No inflection.

"_You should enjoy yourself."_

"_What?"_

"_You can get some payback."_

Tim's voice took on a nasty sarcastic edge. It could just be because he knew that he had an audience, but Gibbs rather thought that this was how he usually spoke to his handler. It was a case of mutual loathing.

"_Oh, you offering yourself up as a target, are you?"_

"_Funny, Timmy."_

"_What am I doing?"_

"_I want you to find these people."_

"_Why?"_

"_They've been assigned to look for us."_

Tim laughed. _"Ironic."_

"_Why do you say that?"_

"_Well, let me think...you hired them to find me. They did, but then used Morris...and me, to find you. Talk about your decisions biting you in the behind."_

"_Just do your job."_

"_Will do."_ They both fell silent then as Tim began his search. It lasted a long time. Every so often, they heard the handler demand a progress report, and Tim would give it to her in the same emotionless voice.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Six hours later..._

Gibbs was nearly falling asleep. Tony _was_ asleep. Tim's reports were monotonous and unintelligible to anyone with an IQ lower than Abby's. He still stared up at the building, wondering where exactly Tim was.

"_...if you say it, I'll believe you."_ Tim's words from the day before repeated in his mind. Gibbs generally enjoyed the perception that he knew all. It kept people respecting him. It prevented them from assuming he was automatically wrong. They always thought first because _he_ suggested something. It was a power, an influence that he enjoyed...but now...he wanted to yell at Tim and tell him that he couldn't rely on him...because he made mistakes just like everyone else. He wasn't perfect. He wouldn't always be there. He _wasn't_ a superhero. He was just a man doing his best...and...sometimes his best wasn't enough.

"_You find them yet?"_

"_I'm closing in. Sector twelve is a no go." _Tim continued with the technobabble. He was so good at that. He always had been much better at explaining what he was doing than actually _telling_ anyone what he was doing.

But Gibbs also knew that Tim was aware of his flaws. Logically, Tim knew that he wasn't perfect. No one was perfect, and Gibbs was no exception. Tim _wanted_ him to be perfect. He _wanted_ him to be a superhero. It would mean that there was always someone behind him. There was always a support. It had been desperation driving Tim's demand. A desperation that Gibbs well understood. What could he say to it? He couldn't lie, but he didn't want to destroy the fragile hope that Tim had cultivated. It was all centered on the one person who was to blame for his current position. The irony was painful.

"_I've found them."_

Gibbs sat up. He smacked Tony.

"I'm ready...no fumble," Tony mumbled as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What's up, Boss?" he asked as he became more coherent.

"McGee found them."

"Oh." Tony couldn't decide whether or not he was glad that this group was going to get it. They had tortured Tim. They had been ready to kill him...but still...

"_Where?"_

"_Virginia. Southeast. Near Fredricksburg."_

"_Coordinates?"_

"_Sending."_

"_ETA?"_

There was a pause. _"Thirty minutes."_

The microphone picked up a sigh of satisfaction. _"Well done, Timmy."_

"_Right."_

"_Now, we wait."_

"_Yes, I'm aware."_

There was silence. Ten minutes...fifteen minutes...twenty minutes...then, suddenly.

"_What is that?"_

Gibbs and Tony looked at each other with worry. _That_ could be anything, but they were afraid it was the wire.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Oh, Timmy. You're in big trouble now."

Tim looked down at the fabric stretched taut over the wire. He had been sitting cramped for so long that he had needed to stretch, not thinking about showing the wire. He knew that he was in trouble...and he snapped. Before his handler could even react, he spun around in his chair and hit her, as hard as he could. He'd never really hit a woman before, not with the intent to harm. He'd slugged Abby on the shoulder a couple of times (never as hard as she had hit him) and he'd sparred with Kate...disastrously, but he'd never actually _tried_ to hit a woman. He felt terrible as he watched her fall to the floor in slow motion...but he also felt satisfaction at finally returning some of the damage to her. He could imagine his parents' reactions.

His dad was rather old-fashioned about things like this...as was Tim normally. _Never hit a woman, Tim._ No exceptions. No excuses. That's the way it was.

His mother was more practical. _Hitting doesn't help matters, but if you absolutely have to fight, make sure you win. Don't let fear hold you back._

Sarah, of course, would never have any trouble with what Tim was doing. In fact, he could hear her cheering him on. _Nice one, Tim! Get her again!_ Sarah was quite progressive.

For a moment, he wished that the rest of the team was there...but that was silly. They couldn't give him any advice right now. He turned away from his unconscious handler and began to type furiously on the computer. He understood now. He couldn't ask Gibbs to die for him. He should never have even _intimated_ that was what he wanted. It wasn't. He had very little time. He knew that. The team would reach the surviving CIA members in minutes and expect his help. He had to stop them. Abby was right. This was the last time. No matter what.

The first thing he did was insert a virus into the program he had written. It wouldn't fail right away, but it would definitely fail. He was the only one who could stop the gradual degradation of all the code. He smiled coolly and looked briefly over his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm in _huge _trouble," he said in a strangled voice, momentarily forgetting the wire was picking this up. "Don't you worry about a thing, dear. I've got it all under control." Then, he turned back and began to search for the team. There they were, moving stealthily...but not stealthily enough to hide from Tim.

He felt a strange sense of god-like power as he watched them. "He hath loosed the fateful lightning," Tim whispered as he sent the signals that would alert the CIA to their presence. He continued to type on the right-hand computer but was glancing at the video feed often. He smiled again. Without trying to cover his tracks, he hacked quickly into the group's server. It was easy. He was halfway in already. Then, he began to download the files, copying them, sending them off to various and sundry people within the CIA...but also in the FBI...and in NCIS. He spread the knowledge as far and wide as he could, knowing..._finally_ understanding the strength in numbers.

Tim heard a faint moan from the floor. He turned around in his chair. His handler was stirring. He laughed softly. She didn't even have the decency to stay unconscious. Big surprise.

"You should have stayed asleep," he said.

"You're dead," she mumbled.

"Not yet." Tim answered and stood up. "I have some breath in me still."

"Not for long."

"Long enough."

"For what?"

Tim smiled again. "You'll see." Then, with a quickness she wouldn't have ascribed to him, he grabbed her, twisted her arm behind her back and hauled her to the door. He opened it and threw her out into the hallway. "And stay out!" he said and laughed.

Then, he slammed the door shut, engaged the electronic locks they'd installed, turned the dead bolts and returned to the computer. He still had work to do before...he shut down that line of thought, just as he had been able to do every time he'd worked for them. Every time he'd killed someone. Now, he was going to save someone. It was much easier to forget the extraneous information...such as the fact that he was likely to be about to die.

He found the CIA team again and this time, he contacted them.

"Who is this?" His blind date answered the phone. Tim couldn't believe that of all the people he was willing to die for, it was the trio who had tortured him. Life sure had a sickening sense of humor.

"This is your test subject. I thought you might like to know that there's a group of people on their way to your location with the express purpose of killing you all. You have..." Tim looked at the display. "...probably about two minutes, three at the outside."

"Timothy McGee?"

"You have a lot of subjects? You're wasting time. They're coming and you'll die. You're outnumbered and I'm sure you're out-gunned. So, you and your friends should probably get out..._now_!"

"What direction?" she asked, all business.

"Twenty-five degrees, east-northeast."

"Understood."

"One more thing," Tim said.

"What's that?" She didn't sound nervous or rushed. Tim was impressed.

"If you do survive this, make sure you note that I am not a security risk."

She actually laughed. "Will do, Tim. Have a nice day."

"You, too." Tim hung up and returned to his hacking. He was amazed at how smoothly this was all running. He knew that this wasn't part of the plan. He didn't care about the plan. The plan had gotten him to the point at which he could make sure everyone else stayed safe. _That_ was the important thing. He watched on the monitors and then heard the usual click.

"We're in position."

Tim just laughed. "Too bad for you."

"McGee?"

Tim could _almost_ feel sorry for them...almost. He laughed again. "I think you guys should be the...well, the _second_ to know that I'm quitting. Consider this my notice."

"McGee!"

"You know how easy it is for me to track you with this stuff I designed? You're all in black, but that doesn't matter. How does it feel?" he asked, anger making his voice rough. "How does it feel to be tracked...without seeing who's after you? How does it feel to know that there are currently about a thousand people with access to everything about you? How does it feel to know that your lives are in _my_ hands?"

He watched as the group began to scatter. Automatically, he put traces on them all and watched with sadistic pleasure as they began to scramble.

"Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. You shouldn't have given me all these toys to play with." He glanced at the monitor, now divided into three different views. The heat signatures in the house were all gone. He smiled. He could find them again, but they weren't the reason he was doing this, not really. He pinpointed each one of his former "colleagues" and pointed his finger at them. _Boom. Boom. You're dead,_ he thought...although that wasn't really certain. They might get away.

"Timothy McGee!" A new voice, one he'd never heard.

Tim laughed again. "Ah, this must be the boss man, himself! Come to finish me off in person? Go right ahead...only wait a couple of minutes, please. I have things to do. The locks on the door should occupy you at least that long. They're quite good." He looked down toward his chest, to the place where the wire was taped. So close to his heart. He lifted his shirts and ripped it off. "Gibbs, I'm sorry for asking you to promise. Don't come. Please. I've done all I can. This is it. This is how it should end. Don't come. Please, I'm not worth it." Then, he set the wire on the table and continued to search through the CIA server. He made as much noise as he could. He knew that there would be people watching. There were always people watching.

"What have you done?" The voice asked.

Tim forced himself to laugh, although it was closer to a sob. "Ruined you...destroyed you, the way you destroyed me. That's what I've done." He drew on every melodramatic bone in his body for this. It would keep him from thinking about the fact that he was going to die. _It's better this way. It really is._ He remained unconvinced.

The program was degrading too slowly. He opened the file and inserted another virus. This one worked twice as fast. Then, he went back to the CIA. He sent the files to the Director's personal email, knowing that he'd get them. There wasn't a part of the CIA he couldn't get to at the moment. He'd had so much practice in the last two months that it was easy to do it.

"You're going to die, you know."

"I know. You say that like it's a bad thing," Tim said, the tears hovering beneath the bravado. "I should have let you kill me a long time ago."

Then, as he had known it would, a botagent began watching him. Unlike last year, he let it. In fact, he led it around to the various nooks and crannies that made up this nonexistent group.

"Everyone knows about you now!" Tim taunted through the door. "The CIA. The FBI. NCIS. Everyone. You can't kill them all!"

"You wouldn't!"

Tim watched the botagent begin to download the harddrive. He smiled. "Oh wouldn't I? You think that because you threatened everyone that I love that I'd just roll over permanently, that I'd rely on your good faith to keep them safe? You think that because _you_ would rather live this way that _I_ would? I've been struggling with this since the first day. You're terrorists. Worse because you're operating under the auspices of a country who _fights_ terrorists." As he continued to talk, he hacked into the records of previous operations and send them as well. "...but I'm worse than you because _I_ know better and I still helped you...well, that ends now!" He inserted a flash drive and downloaded the files he'd found, the information on the head of the group. "Ah, Laurence Anderson. Director of Support at the CIA. Now, _this_ I'm sure is _not_ part of your job description." He sent another file out. The dowload to his flash drive was complete. He shoved it into his shoe, smiling as he remembered the shoe phone. Mere hours ago, but seeming like forever.

They'd get into this room eventually. The electronic locks _were _good, but they wouldn't last. He was on the tenth floor. There was no fire escape. He smiled sadly. He didn't know how else this could really end, unfortunately. It wasn't ideal, but it probably was the best he could hope for. That was why he hadn't told them what floor he was on. That was why he hadn't told them where the room was. It was a case of self-fulfilling prophecy. He thought this was how it would end...and he had made it that way.

He looked at the wire still sitting on the table. He picked it up, holding it tenderly as if it were more than just a piece of equipment.

"Man, I'm going to miss you guys." Then, he smashed it against the edge of the table. He didn't want them hearing him die.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"_Oh, Timmy. You're in big trouble now."_

Any hope that the wire was still hidden died with those words. Tony and Gibbs were out of the car and halfway down the block before they realized that Tim wasn't dead. He was breathing heavily and he wasn't speaking, but he was alive. When they got to the front entrance, Ziva was already there.

"What do we do?" she asked. "We have no way of knowing where he is."

They all stopped talking when they heard Tim speak, his voice sounding almost alien. _"Yes, I'm in huge trouble. Don't worry about a thing, dear. I've got it all under control."_ That didn't give them any comfort. Tim didn't talk like that, not to anyone.

"_Gibbs! What's going on?"_ Jenny's voice came over their radios.

"Tim's been made. Can't you find _anything_ in this building?" Gibbs asked, nearly begged.

"_No, I told you already. It's been blacked out. The whole building. No infrared, no transmissions. It's a black hole from the satellite's point of view. There's nothing I can..."_

"Wait!" Tony said, suddenly. "Wouldn't that require some sort of...equipment?"

"_Yes. Why?"_

"A point of origin?" he asked. "Probie...I mean...Abby? Am I right?" Tony realized that it was really automatic for them to rely on Tim in the field for the electronic stuff. ...and he wasn't there...well, he _was_. Just not _right_ there.

Abby's voice, teary, came over the radio. _"Yeah, there'd have to be a point of origin, but there's no guarantee that they'd have the equipment in the same place as...as Tim is."_

"It's a place to start at least," Gibbs said. "Can you find it?"

"_I-I think so."_

While they waited, someone walked out of the building. The three of them shrugged and caught the door before it could close. Tim's voice rang out through the wire again.

"_You should have stayed asleep."_

"_You're dead."_

"_Not yet. I have some breath in me still."_

"_Not for long."_

"_Long enough."_

"_For what?"_

"_You'll see." _Then, there was the sound of a scuffle. A door opened and they heard a loud thump. Then, Tim shouted, _"And stay out!" _There was the sound of a door closing and locks being turned.

"Hurry up, Abby," Tony urged.

"_Shut up, Tony," _Abby said, sounding more normal.

The three of them split up and began to search. Tony on the second floor, Ziva on the third, Gibbs on the fourth. They knew that someone, a female someone would be in the hallway...hopefully. Nothing on the floors. It was only about four-thirty in the morning. Very few people were up and around at this time. They heard Tim warning the CIA team. Ziva smiled at the fact that Tim had done that. He was not so changed after all. If he were truly heartless, he would have allowed his colleagues to kill them first and then betray them.

Five...six...seven...by silent agreement, they continued searching each floor, hoping that Abby would come through. They were urged by the sounds coming over the wire. Tim shouted and laughed like a wild man...someone who didn't care what happened next. He taunted the team in a way that gave Tony a run for his money. He said that he didn't care that he was going to die. Then, suddenly, his voice was very close to the wire microphone. He spoke softly, like he had when he'd told them about what he done...almost as if he wished the words would disappear.

"_Gibbs, I'm sorry for asking you to promise. Don't come. Please. I've done all I can. This is it. This is how it should end. Don't come. Please, I'm not worth it." _

Jenny's voice overlapped. _"Jethro, I'm getting a data dump...from McGee."_

Gibbs now knew what his gut had been trying to tell him. Tim wasn't trying to get free. He was trying to free everyone else. He heard him hectoring the head of the group. "Are you getting this, Jen?"

"_Everything. Every word. They're going down, no matter what."_ Even Jenny sounded choked up by Tim's words.

Gibbs nodded, but none of that would matter if they were too late.

"_Man, I'm going to miss you guys."_ It was a sentence sadly spoken. Then, there was a squeal of feedback. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva, all on different floors, heading up to eight, nine and ten, stopped.

"No!" Ziva's voice echoed through the stairwell. Then, silence.

"_Jethro?"_ Jenny's voice was stunned. _"Jethro?"_

Gibbs buried the fear that Tim was now dead. "Keep moving. I'm at nine now, heading up to ten."

Tony's voice was shaking. "Yeah, Boss. Copy that. I'm at eight, beginning my search."

Ziva's voice was now under complete control. The one exclamation now repressed. "Reaching nine."

Gibbs reached the tenth floor and opened the door.

"_Gibbs! It's coming from the tenth floor!" _Abby said triumphantly...her excitement covering her dread.

"Are you sure, Abbs?" Gibbs asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"_Yes, I'm sure! It's originating on the northwest side, halfway down the hall."_

"You copy that, DiNozzo, David?"

"_Copy that. On my way."_

"_Got it, Boss."_

Gibbs counted under his breath. It took less than a minute for Tony and Ziva to get there. He almost smiled. Silently, he gestured for them to go around the other hallway. Then, he took his first step toward what he hoped would be Tim's rescue...not a recovery.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Can you or can you not open this door?" Laurence demanded.

The handler didn't bother showing her annoyance. "I can, but it takes time. These were supposed to keep _others_ out, not us."

Laurence raised his voice again. "You and everyone you care about are dead, McGee! You've signed their death warrants!"

He was rewarded with an insane laugh...and an equally-crazed response. "Really? If I've signed them, who's going to carry them out? You have no idea how much trouble _you're _in."

"Is he bluffing?" he asked in a low voice.

"I doubt it," the handler replied. "Twenty seconds and I'll have him."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim briefly considered just throwing himself out the window, but only briefly. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of driving him to death. If he was going to die, it would be at someone else's hand. He thought of his parents again, hoping to keep them safe with his actions at this moment. What would they say if they were there, if they knew that their only son was about to die? Tim swivelled on the chair and smiled sadly. _Dad would find something to quote._ What would he pick? Something stirring, bracing...melancholy...

"_And you, my father, there on the sad height,  
__Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
__Do not go gentle into that good night.  
__Rage, rage against the dying of the light."_

Yes, that would suit the situation. He'd raged. Now, he would go into the good night. What about his mother? _Mom, what would you say to me? You're not like Dad; you always have your own words. They're not Shakespeare, but they're yours._

Then, it was as if he heard her voice. _"I'm your mother, Tim. I won't be able to say anything...except that I love you."_

Tim heard the electronic lock failing. There were still the deadbolts, but they wouldn't last very long...not against the determined duo out there. Tim looked once more at the computers. The hard drive had been downloaded by the botagent. The program he'd created was dead. The location of the members of the group had been sent to the appropriate authorities. There was nothing left to do but die...but...

"I don't want to," he said softly. He sagged in the chair. "I don't want to die, not now." He'd lost so much to these people. He didn't want to give them his life as well.

The locks failed. There was a thud against the door. The deadbolts held. Tim smiled and took a deep breath as he waited. Even now, at the very end, he would _not_ give them the satisfaction of knowing that he was afraid of dying, that they scared him, that he hated everything about his life...except for the fact that it _was_ life. That fact alone made it precious, priceless. He stood up. It was a useless gesture, perhaps. No one would know how he had died. He could die cowering in the corner for all his friends and family would know...but _he_ would know. The people who were about to kill him would know. They would know that they hadn't managed to break him. They would know that...even as they went to prison...even as they were hunted down. They would know that the man who had taken them down had died on his feet, facing them...unafraid...

_Except for the fact that I _am_ afraid,_ Tim thought, his ears roaring with false sounds. He swallowed. That didn't matter really. What mattered was that he looked the part. Gibbs would be proud if he knew that the weakling of the team was able to stand on his own two feet in the face of imminent death. A single tear fell from Tim's eye as he heard another thud and saw the door shake. It wouldn't be long now. He wiped away the tear. _I never told Tony that I used him as inspiration. I should have. He'd be flattered. Did I thank Ziva enough for being there when I was crazy? Is any amount of thanks really enough?_ He smiled, thinking of Abby. He'd miss her hugs.

Another thud. _One more ought to do it,_ Tim said to himself. He clenched his fists, determined to use the last of his remaining will to maintain his current position.

There was a period of silence...except for the roaring in his ears, and Tim wondered why. _Come on. Get in here already._

Then, the door burst open. Tim couldn't help it. He closed his eyes. He hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.

Nothing happened.

"McGee!"

Tim opened his eyes in disbelief. There, in the shattered remains of the door, stood Gibbs, Tony and Ziva, their guns out, on the floor behind them two people in cuffs. The most impossible sight, the most _beautiful_ sight in the world. Tim heard all his air pour out of his mouth in a single, noisy _whoosh_. Then, he dragged in more oxygen, just as noisily. The feeling left his legs and he sank down onto the chair behind him...or he sank down _toward_ the computer chair. He missed...and ended up on the floor, not caring how stupid he must look, not able to look away from his team. _I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die._ The words repeated over and over in his head as his brain tried to process the impossible information. He'd spent the last day mentally preparing himself for his own death...and now...he was still alive.

"McGee? You okay?"

_I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die._

He watched Gibbs put his gun away and kneel down in front of him.

"It's okay, McGee. It's okay."

_I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die._

Tony and Ziva both approached as well. They reached out and grabbed his arms, trying to ground him with physical contact.

"Come on, Probie. Say something."

Tim looked at Tony. "I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die."

"No, you're not," Gibbs said. Tim's eyes slowly shifted from Tony to Gibbs, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since he'd yelled at him in the elevator.

"I'm sorry, Boss. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have...you shouldn't have had to come. I didn't want you to die. I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

"I know, McGee. It's okay. No one else died."

_No one else died. I'm not going to die. No one else died. I'm not going to die._ Valiantly, Tim tried to hold back the tears, the shock, everything. His left hand clenched into a tight fist and he closed his eyes again as he waved it jerkily in the air before bringing it to his temple. His breathing was still noisy and shaky.

"No, McGee. Don't do that," Gibbs said. "No more hiding it."

Suddenly, Tim lurched forward and hugged Gibbs. He began to sob, noisily again. "I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die," he whispered, still in disbelief.

It might have turned into a big old group hug. Tony and Ziva were nearly in tears themselves at the fact that Tim was continually repeating himself...it might have...

...but then, they weren't alone in the room.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" Four people stood in the doorway. Two were looking at the cuffed man and woman in the hallway. The other two were pointing their guns at the team.

Tony looked at Ziva and grinned, although his eyes were still glistening. "What a coincidence," he said, reveling in the irony. "So are we."

"CIA."

"NCIS."

"Which one of you is Timothy McGee?"

Tim pulled back and looked at them. The tears gone in an instant. "That would be me," he said, his voice trembling, his face pale.

"I'm afraid you'll need to come with us."

Tim nodded...


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

It took less than a second for everyone to be pointing their guns at two men standing in the doorway. They actually looked surprised by the reaction.

"Whoa!"

"He's not going anywhere," Gibbs said softly.

"Boss..." Tim began.

"Shut up, Probie," Tony said. "The CIA doesn't have a good track record with NCIS personnel."

"I'll go with them," Tim insisted.

"No, you will not," Ziva said firmly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Back in MTAC, Abby was listening with fear first as they headed to Tim's location and then when they found him. It was so _hard_ being here and not knowing exactly what was going on. Then...the CIA showed up and Abby was afraid again.

Jenny was relieved...but then worried. She looked over at one of the techs. "Get me the director of the CIA on video. Now!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenny listened to the standoff. "Jethro, I'm checking it out. Don't do anything stupid."

There was no direct reply, but Gibbs did chuckle. Then, the tech pointed at the screen.

Jenny nodded.

"What can I do for the director of NCIS? We're in a bit of crisis at the moment, and I don't have time for social calls."

"This isn't social. You have a team trying to take one of my agents into custody," Jenny said. "I'd like to know why."

"I have my reasons."

"Well, you won't be getting him, unless you explain."

"Let's start the list then, shall we?" He made a show of ticking off points on his fingers. "Agent McGee hacked into the CIA...more than once; he's been working for a team that's been causing me grief; he hacked us again; he gained access to all the personal contact information of the CIA...and used that information."

"...and he single-handedly took down that group that's been causing you grief. He sent all the same information to me."

"Oh, well, yes, there is that, too."

"And there's also the fact that he was coerced into working for that group...and the fact that you had a team _torturing_ him to make sure that he wasn't a security risk...and the fact that..."

"Yes, yes. You've made your point. If it will make you feel any better, I had no intention of harming him."

"Then, what _is_ your intention?" Jenny asked.

"A debriefing. A simple run-of-the-mill debriefing...with me, personally, rather than through regular channels. This is not something the CIA's reputation can take."

"You think that the CIA's reputation can sink lower than it is now?"

"Yes, unfortunately, it can. One of my own advisors was heading up that annoying group. Don't you think that will be a problem?"

Jenny smiled. "Yes, it probably will."

"Then, will you release him?"

"No. My team will _accompany_ Timothy McGee to his debriefing. They know most of the story anyway. And if I don't have them all back here safe and sound within two hours, you'll wish you only had the CIA's reputation to worry about."

The director grinned and saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

Jenny made the sign to end the conversation. Then, she reconnected with Gibbs. "You can go with him, Jethro. It's only a debriefing. I have a guarantee."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs smiled a little. "Do _they_ know that yet?" he asked.

"_They will in a moment."_

As if on cue, one of the other agents leaned into the room and whispered to the man in front. He nodded.

"We just need him for a debriefing with the Director. You can all come."

Gibbs hesitated for about a second and then holstered his gun. Ziva and Tony followed suit. Tim stood up, his face back to the mask. The ride to Langley was silent. Tim didn't speak although every so often a shudder ran through his body and his eyes closed. Every time that happened, someone touched him gently on the arm, on the shoulder. Without fail, his eyes would open and he would try to smile...but not to speak.

Then, the CIA headquarters loomed ahead and their exit approached. Gibbs turned the wheel to follow the car ahead of him. There was a part of him that wanted to ditch both the car in the lead and the car behind them and take Tim back to NCIS...but that wasn't going to happen. He knew it, and Tim wasn't trying to avoid it. _He probably doesn't think he has a choice._ ...which he probably didn't.

"Ever been here before, Ziva?" Tony asked as they approached the main entrance a few minutes later.

"No. You?"

"Nope. For some reason, I think that it should look more...foreboding. It's too bright and sunny."

Tim didn't answer. He just walked. They had no idea what he was thinking. Then, they reached the lobby...and Tim gave a short humorless laugh. It wasn't another breakdown, although his eyes looked haunted as he stared at the wall.

"What's so...not funny, McGee?" Tony asked. The CIA agents stopped and looked back the four. They seemed content to wait while Tim stared.

"And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free."

"What's so funny about that?"

Tim just shook his head and followed the CIA agents. Tony took one more look at the wall before shrugging and following the others.

They stepped into a fairly boring office. Tony wanted to make a comment about the lack of interesting decor, but held himself back.

"Please, have a seat. The director will be in momentarily."

They did so. They sat in silence for under a minute before the door opened again and a rather harmless-looking man entered.

"Hello, I'm Director Levi Carew." He approached the group and held out his hand to Tim. Tim stood and shook his hand without speaking. "You must be Agent McGee."

Tim didn't answer. He just sat down again and stared. Director Carew looked at the rest of them and seemed to think better of offering his hand to them. Instead, he sat at his desk.

"Thank you for coming."

Tim still didn't answer, nor did he look away. The silence stretched out for a full minute before Tim relented.

"I'm sorry. Was there a question in there?" His voice was cool, nearly glacial.

"I'll admit to expecting some common courtesy."

Tim gave an incredulous laugh. "Common courtesy? You should be glad that I'm sitting so quietly here. I didn't kill anyone tonight. I could have...easily." He leaned forward. "I could have killed my handler, a group of my former colleagues, the team _you_ set up to find this group. I could have killed any one of them...or all of them. I did not." He pulled off both of his shirts. Two thin bloody slices marked his ribcage. "I got these tonight from my handler." He turned around and pointed to the burns and fresh bruises. "I got those from your team." He put his t-shirt back on. "Forgive me if my sense of common courtesy is a bit frayed right now."

Director Carew smiled slightly. "Very well. I'll get right to the point."

"Please do," Tim said and sat back down.

"You've been wreaking havoc within our system this morning. I'll admit to having had little time to review all the material, but what I've seen is enough to tell me that you know more than you should."

Tim's shoulders hunched for a brief second. Then, he straightened. "I acted out of desperation, Director. I'll admit to that. You have no idea what I've been going through for the last two months. Tonight, I decided that I was done. So, yes, I have seen basically everything there is to see within the CIA. What are you going to do about it?"

"That depends on you."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes."

"So...how do we figure this out?"

"Well, let's get the stupid question out of the way first. Do you want a new job?"

"You're right. That is stupid," Tim said. Tony grinned to himself, but quickly schooled his expression as Director Carew shifted his gaze.

"I take it that's a no."

"That would be correct."

"Good. That's done. Now, I want you to walk me through what's been going on under my nose."

"Okay." Tim began to describe his experiences over the last two months...in much more detail than he had to the team. The one thing he did not do was show any emotion. It was as though he was describing the plot to an extremely convoluted book, not something he himself had experienced. The whole process took about an hour and a half. When he finished, Tim simply stopped talking...and he waited.

There was a subtle shifting on the part of Ziva, Tony and Gibbs. Tim was leaving with them. That was certain. Any attempt to stop him would be disastrous...for the stopper.

Director Carew leaned back in his chair. His expression was as blank as Tim's was. To everyone's surprise, he didn't comment on anything.

"Thank you for coming, Agent McGee." He stood in dismissal. Tim stood as well. They did not shake hands. He turned and walked out the door, the rest of them trailing in his wake. He still said nothing. He looked briefly at the CIA motto once more and shook his head as they left the building, but he still didn't speak...not until they drove off the CIA property.

"You were amazing in there, Probie," Tony said.

"Yes, McGee, I was very impressed."

Tim seemed to wilt. "I didn't think they'd let me leave," he whispered. "I thought they'd kill us all." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Boss, I need to go home."

"Why, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"There's something I need to do. If you want me to stay at NCIS today, I will...or anywhere else. I don't care. I don't care at all. Just...I need to go home first."

"Okay," Gibbs said. He looked at Tim, huddled in his seat. He looked so young with his head down and his shoulders hunched, as if braced for a blow. Gibbs took a hand off the steering wheel and grasped his shoulder tightly. "You did good, McGee."

"Thanks, Boss," Tim whispered...but he didn't look up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The erstwhile Kristine Blumell walked into the debriefing room. She was the last to report in. After Tim's warning they had separated and met up again here at headquarters. She wasn't sure of everything that had happened, but she got the sense that their operation was over. The questions she was asked pretty much confirmed that. Her debriefing took under an hour and then, she stood to leave.

"One more question."

"Yes?"

"Timothy McGee."

"What about him?" she asked.

"Is he a threat?"

She grinned. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On who's asking the question. If you mean is he a threat to national security...I'd have to say no. If you mean is he a threat to people who threaten _him_ or those around him? I'd have to say definitely, but he's an honorable man. He has _morals_."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Kristine walked out of the room and headed to her office. Once there, she pulled up a familiar file with a familiar picture. It wasn't the typical photo because their pictures were not obtained officially...but it _was _up close and personal.

She scanned through the information...

**Name: Timothy McGee**

**Occupation: NCIS Special Agent**

**Known aliases: Thom E. Gemcity**

**Physical Information:**

It was all information she knew by heart. Then, she came to the pertinent data.

**Risk to National Security (choose one): HighMediumLowN/A**

**Comments (Explain choice):**

This had been vacant for two months. It was her job to decide. Griffen might run the operation, but analysis was _her_ job. Her decision would stand unless he made a stink about it...which he wouldn't. She began to type...

**Risk to National Security (choose one): Low**

**Comments (Explain choice): After thorough testing and observation, Timothy McGee is designated as a low security risk. He will not willingly reveal sensitive information. He has the strength of character to resist interrogation. He is loyal to the ideals that make up foundation of this country and will not give them up, even for personal vengeance. Has a solid support system to which he is also loyal. It is the decision of Team E6-TM that he be removed from observation and further testing.**

Kristine read through her comments once and nodded. That would do. She logged out and left the office.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

They got caught in the morning rush hour. It was light because of it being Sunday, but still there was a definite increase in the volume of traffic. After the weekend they'd all just had, it seemed incongruous for people to be leading normal lives. Tim still wasn't speaking, but there was something different in his silence. This wasn't a case of hiding things. It was a case of not knowing where to _start_ letting his feelings out again. There were just too many of them. For the moment, Gibbs seemed content to allow him to stay silent, and Tony and Ziva didn't know what to say themselves.

When they pulled up to his apartment building, Tim looked at it for a few seconds and then started to get out.

"Do you want us to come up with you, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim just shrugged and got out of the car.

"Was that a yes or a no?" Tony asked the remaining occupants.

"I do not know."

Gibbs looked at them both and gestured for them to follow Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stepped into his apartment and rubbed his forehead. He was full to the brim with emotions, but he didn't, he _couldn't_ seem to let them out. Every moment he'd been sitting in front of Director Carew, he had assumed that it would end with him either being arrested or killed. He had seen too much. To be allowed to simply walk out of the sunny building (even though he hadn't commented, he agreed with Tony...the CIA shouldn't be so pretty) was unreal. He couldn't move at first. He couldn't remember what it was that he wanted to do. In light of the lack of conscious thought, autopilot took over.

Tim began to walk toward his bedroom, pulling off his shirt. He dropped it on the floor and walked into the bathroom. He grabbed his first aid kit, now much more complete (and more used) than it ever had been before, and walked back into his bedroom. He sat down and began to treat the knife wounds. They were long and unsightly, but not serious. They never had been. That wasn't why they had been inflicted.

"Need some help with that, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim looked up briefly and shook his head. As he applied the antibiotic, he wondered if these would fade. They were so thin. She must have sharpened her knife fairly recently. He expertly taped gauze over the two slashes and then stood to put the first aid kit away.

"I will do that, McGee," Ziva said, taking it from him. Tim gave her a detached smile as he watched her go into the bathroom.

_What was it that I needed to do?_ Tim asked himself. Then, his eyes strayed automatically to the camera. They were _always _watching him. ...and then, of all the emotions he was feeling at that moment, a little of the tortured rage came trickling out. He walked to the camera in his bedroom and pulled it down from its position in the corner. He stared at it, breathing heavily, and then he threw it to the floor. It didn't break; so he picked it up and threw it violently against the wall. It shattered.

"Whoa! McGee!" Tony said. "There are better ways to gather evidence." He took a step toward him, but stopped when Tim looked at him with thinly-suppressed anger.

Tim didn't answer. Instead, he strode past Tony and began to move around his apartment, grabbing every piece of surveillance equipment they had installed and breaking it into pieces. He knew where it all was. He'd found each one weeks ago.

He ignored Tony and Ziva who kept trying to say something to him, never quite making a move to actually stop his systematic destruction. Destroying the surveillance equipment was only the surface part of what was going on. In his head, he was desperately trying to tear down the wall that he had built so effectively. The emotions inside were choking him, making it hard to breathe. He wanted it to go away. He hated keeping everything hidden. He hated feeling like he was unable to even smile for fear of letting out the sadness with the joy. He was tired of cutting himself off so effectively that no one even noticed the difference. He wanted them to notice...finally.

"McGee, what are you doing?"

Tim spun around, a microphone crushed in his hand. He looked at it and then back up at Gibbs who was standing in his doorway. "Cleaning."

Gibbs looked at Tim, standing shirtless in the middle of his apartment, black plastic fragments littering the floor, Tony and Ziva looking helpless. "It looks like you're doing the opposite."

The microphone dropped to the floor to join its similarly-abused counterparts.

Tim stood staring at Gibbs. "Tell me it's over."

"What?"

"Tell me it's over, Boss. Please. Tell me it's over."

Gibbs walked to Tim and grabbed his shoulders. "Tim, you need to stop doing that."

"Stop what?" Tim asked, shaking a little.

"Stop thinking of me as the person who can fix everything. I'm not that person. I can't take back the mistakes I've made... and I've made plenty. I can't change what happened to you. I might wish that I could, but I'm not omnipotent. I am _not_, Tim."

The look in Tim's eyes was almost betrayal, but he didn't say anything.

"You _know_ this, Tim. You know that I'm not Superman or any other invincible superhero. Life doesn't work like that. I can't tell you it's over. I don't know if it is. I can't do everything for you. In fact, there's very little I _can_ do for you. I've been doing what I can."

Tim closed his eyes. Gibbs could feel him trembling. "I know. I know, Boss...but it's not enough."

"It has to be...because I can't do any more than I have."

Tim began to shake more as the wall weakened...but didn't fall. "I can't...do it, Boss."

"Do what?"

"I can't breathe," Tim gasped and pulled out of Gibbs' grip. He staggered away, into his bedroom, into the bathroom where he slid to the floor and began to retch.

"Let it out, Tim."

"I...can't," Tim said, still retching.

"Yes, you can. There's no one watching...except us, of course. You can. We're all here for you."

"I..." Tim stopped. He stopped breathing altogether for just long enough that Gibbs began to worry. Then, Tim exhaled and with the exhalation came the tears he had so quickly stopped when the CIA had come in. "I thought I was...going to die. From the moment you made me help. I thought I was going to die."

Gibbs didn't even bother asking why Tim hadn't said anything before. He knew. He looked back at Tony and Ziva in the doorway. They said nothing either.

"I thought that if I was going to die, I could at least make sure no one else did. That was all I wanted. I didn't want any of you to be hurt because of me. I've already killed so many. When I was in that room, I knew I was going to die. I just wanted to have it happen fast. That's all I wanted." Tim stopped and wiped at his eyes...a useless gesture. The tears were quickly replaced by others, but at least he wasn't retching anymore. "I wanted to make you proud of me, Boss, even if no one was there to see it. I was going to die. I was..." he stopped and swallowed. "...ready...and then I didn't." Tim laughed. "I couldn't believe it. I still can't."

Ziva knelt beside him and took his arm. "You _are _alive, McGee," she said.

Tim tried to smile, but then, he looked back toward the bedroom and his head dropped again. "They've always been there, watching me. For the last two months, they've been watching me. I was never alone...but I was _always _alone. I'm just so _sick_ of it all." He lifted his head. He saw Gibbs there...and then he looked at Tony, still standing in the doorway. "I just want it to be over. That's all I want now." He looked pleadingly at Gibbs. "Can't it be over?"

Tony crouched down in front of Tim and answered instead. "No, McGee. Does anything get over that quickly? One moment and then nothing? Everything takes time."

"Yes. There's something that does."

"What?"

"Life. Life can end that quickly." Tim took a deep breath. "I've seen it happen...too many times."

Tony smiled. "Nope. You're wrong, Probie. For all your numberless brain cells, you're wrong. Where's the happy-go-lucky McGee we know and love?"

Tim took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think he's dead, Tony."

There was a moment of deep silence and then Ziva surprised them all by smacking Tim on the back of the head. He looked at her in surprise. Although Tony had Gibbs-slapped him numerous times, Ziva never had.

"He is _not_ dead, McGee. He is merely injured." She stood up and held out her hand. "We will just have to give him a chance to heal, yes?"

Tim took her hand, but he didn't answer.

"Will you at least concede the possibility, McGee?" she asked as he stood.

"I don't know, Ziva. I just don't know." He looked at Gibbs and Tony. "What now?"

"I'd feel better if you stayed at NCIS for awhile longer," Gibbs said. "At least until we know that they picked up the other members."

Tim nodded.

"But, first, I think you should put on a shirt, Probie," Tony said, covering his eyes.

Tim smiled. There was a lot of hurt in the smile, not for the comment, but for the situation...but at least it was a smile.

"I can do that, Tony."

"I hope so, McGee."

Tim grabbed a shirt. He didn't even really look at it. He just grabbed one and put it on. Then, he picked up the shirt he'd been wearing. "Is this evidence, Boss?"

Gibbs looked at it. "No."

Tim nodded and carried it with him when they left the apartment.

He held it in his hands the whole way back to NCIS. He had lapsed back into silence and they all respected that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you ready, Probie?"

Tim jumped a little and looked over his shoulder at Tony. "What do you mean? Ready for what?"

"For Abby."

A real, genuine smile lit up Tim's face. "Probably not."

The elevator doors opened. Tony actually cowered a little, afraid that she'd be right there. She wasn't. She was sitting at Tim's desk, Bert clasped firmly in her arms. She didn't notice them at first...maybe Bert made too much noise...she was holding him very tightly. Then, she looked up.

"Tim!" She stood and dropped Bert onto Tim's desk. She hurtled across the room and fairly launched herself at Tim. It was hard to tell who was squeezing more tightly. Tim was crying again. "You're okay! Oh, you're okay!"

"Not yet, Abby," he whispered.

"You _will_ be, Tim. I promise," Abby retorted fiercely.

Tim could have stated the obvious: that she didn't have any control over that...but he didn't. He just relished the feeling of being held by a friend. He felt safe and protected. He was at NCIS, surrounded by friends...and Abby was hugging him like she'd never let him go. ...but like all good things, it couldn't last forever.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was Sunday evening. It seemed like years had passed since he had been taken on Friday. He wished he could just go to sleep and forget it all, but he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn't be able to forget. It would all be in his dreams for a long time...hopefully. He still wasn't sure if he'd ever feel safe outside of NCIS. He wondered if he'd ever stop worrying about everyone around him. Gibbs had told him that his family was being watched, just in case. Tim knew that they couldn't know what exactly had been going on. It probably wouldn't even make it into the newspapers. Too much classified information was tied up in this one. That was fine with him...as long as they were all safe.

Abby was obviously very tired. She'd been up all night with the rest of them...without even a Caf-Pow! to keep her awake. Now that the adrenaline rush of not knowing whether or not Tim was okay was over, she was beginning to droop...but she didn't say anything about leaving. Actually, no one seemed in a hurry to leave. Tony and Ziva had disappeared for a few hours and come back with the bugs from everyone's apartments and cars..._not_ broken. Other than that, they were at NCIS...with Tim. He was tired himself, but he couldn't go to sleep...and he didn't want to leave.

"Abby?" Tim said, softly.

Abby, who had been dozing at Gibbs' desk, sat up quickly. "What? What?"

Tim smiled a little. "You should go home, get some sleep."

"Oh, I'm not tired."

Tim just looked at her.

"Okay, I _am_ tired, but I don't want to go home."

"You can go, Abby. I'll still be here tomorrow."

"You weren't," she said.

Tim nodded. "I know...but I will be tomorrow. I promise."

Abby stood up and walked over to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go and sleep. I'll feel better if you do."

Abby grinned. "That's a low blow."

"Did it work?"

Abby sighed. "Okay, yes, it worked. I'll go. ...but if you're not here...I'll kill you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Abby hugged him tightly again. "Don't disappear again, okay?"

"I won't," Tim answered.

Finally, Abby left. Tony and Ziva both offered, first to stay and then to give him a place to sleep. He refused both offers. They were tired, as well, and they recognized it. They left with a few backward glances at Tim sitting alone at his desk...but they left. They needn't have worried. Tim had no intention of leaving the building. It could burn down around him and he wouldn't leave. Alone, finally, he turned out his lamp and put his head down on his desk, falling asleep almost instantly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What about McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Jenny sighed and stood up from her desk. "I haven't been able to get a straight answer out of Carew. I think he's still undecided. He was impressed by McGee's performance. I think he's waiting until he can talk to all the parties involved before making a decision."

"We're not handing him over."

"No, we're not," Jenny agreed, firmly. "But there's no point in making trouble if we don't have to. Let's wait and see what he says first. Where _is_ McGee?"

"Still in the bullpen."

"Where is he going tonight?"

Gibbs smiled a little sadly. "I don't think he's planning on going _anywhere_."

"He can't stay in here forever."

"I know that, and so does he. Let him have the security for now."

"All right, Jethro. What about you?"

Gibbs just widened his eyes slightly.

"Good night, Jethro."

"Night, Jen."

They walked out to the balcony together and looked down into the bullpen. Tim was out like a light at his desk. The lights were dim. Jenny put her hand on Gibbs' arm for a moment, looking as though she wanted to just hug Tim...but instead, she walked to the elevator while Gibbs descended the stairs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Tell me where he is! Do it or they all die!"_

"No...no..."

_The light was burning him, burning a hole through him._

"Stop...please, no..."

"McGee, wake up!"

Tim pulled himself from the pit of his nightmares and felt tears on his cheeks. He sat up and looked around. The bullpen was still dark. Gibbs was sitting beside him, looking wide awake.

"What time is it, Boss?"

"About three."

Tim nodded and wiped away the tears. "Okay. You don't have to be here."

"Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

Gibbs looked him in the eye. "Because, McGee, _this_ is something I can do."

Tim swallowed and nodded again. "It might just be enough, Boss."

Gibbs smiled and then sobered. "You know, McGee, you're going to have leave sooner or later."

"I know...but nothing bad has happened to me here...at least not anything permanently bad."

"I understand that, but don't let what happened keep you from moving on. That won't help."

"I know." Tim sighed. "What's going to happen, Boss?"

"Don't know yet, McGee."

"CIA hasn't said anything yet?"

"Not yet. Believe me; you'll know if and when they do...and you won't have to worry either."

"You sure of that?"

"As sure as I can be." Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder and stood up. "Go back to sleep, McGee."

"Yes, Boss." Tim pillowed his head in his arms again. For a few seconds, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get back to sleep after the dreams he'd had, but he turned his head toward Gibbs' desk and saw him working there and yawned. He was safe.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_Tuesday morning, 6:25 a.m._

Director Levi Carew sat at his desk, looking at the reports. There were a lot of them...and he'd read every single one. All of it together made a complete mess...for him. He leaned over to his computer and pulled up the file on NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee. It was thorough, as pretty much all their files were. There were plentiful grounds to take him into custody and more grounds to make him disappear. ...but despite all that, he couldn't help remembering the look in the agent's eyes as he had described everything that had happened, everything he had done. Griffen was on official notice pending a more thorough investigation into the testing process. It would all happen very quietly and no one the wiser. The rest of Laurence's group had been rounded up, all of them were members of the CIA. Worse and worse.

It all came back to Agent McGee...which was especially unfortunate because that meant that a decision had to be made and sooner rather than later.

_Has to be made,_ Carew thought grimly. _It's already been made. I just am trying to justify it to myself._ But really...why did he _have_ to justify it? He didn't.

Carew stood up and walked to the door of his office. "Paul, I need my car brought around front."

"Yes sir."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Sleeping at your desk again, eh, McGee?" Tony asked as he walked in. "That has got to be murder on your back."

Tim shrugged. "At least I'm sleeping." _Sort of...in short spurts._

"You know, they invented beds for a reason, Probie."

Tim merely shrugged again and sat up, stretching. He knew that he'd have to leave soon. He couldn't stay here for much longer before Gibbs would start giving him the _look_. He'd gone to his apartment, more than once. He'd picked up clothes, showered. He'd started working again, but every time he stepped out of the building, he started looking over his shoulder, watching for someone to approach...watching for _her_ to approach. His dreams weren't going away, and he just got the feeling that there was more coming. ...and Tony couldn't joke it away, no matter how much he might want to.

"Hey, McGee..."

"I need to go and change, Tony. I'll be back," Tim said, standing and grabbing his bag. He hurried into the men's room and changed into fresh clothes. He'd showered last night at his apartment...before turning around and driving back to NCIS. He had felt the tension ooze out of his muscles as soon as he'd stepped back into the building. It had been the only place he truly felt safe and he just wasn't ready to face the long and difficult (albeit necessary) process of readjusting to the outside world. When he came back out, Ziva was there and she and Tony were both looking up toward Jenny's office with worried expressions.

"What's up, guys?" he asked.

"Nothing, McGee," Tony said quickly.

Tim followed their gazes and then looked back with a disbelieving smile. "Right. What is it?"

Tony and Ziva looked at each other.

"The CIA Director just went into Director Shephard's office."

Tim looked up toward the office again. "I..." he cleared his throat. "I guess he's made a decision. Do you think it's a good thing or a bad thing that he came here in person?"

"It does not matter, McGee," Ziva said. "We will not allow him to take you away. We outnumber him."

Tim's mouth quirked toward a smile but didn't quite make it. "Does NCIS outnumber the CIA?"

"Well, seeing as they keep the number of employees secret..." Tony began.

"They outnumber us, Tony," Tim said. "Believe me. I know."

They all fell silent at the implications of that simple statement. Tim _knew_. That's why this was so nerve-wracking. Tim knew...and he shouldn't.

When Gibbs came in a few minutes later, Ziva and Tony had subtly shifted themselves to flanking positions on either side. Abby was standing very close, ready to attack if necessary. It was almost funny.

"Paparazzi after you, McGee?" he asked.

Tim looked at his friends, almost as if noticing their positions for the first time. He moved slightly. "Not so far as I know."

"Good. We have work to do." No one moved for a few moments. Gibbs rolled his eyes. "The CIA is not going to snap their fingers and make him disappear. Abby, Ducky has samples for you to run. Tony, Ziva, I want you both to go and double-check the ensign's house."

"Boss?" Tim asked as the others reluctantly moved away.

"You may as well stick around here. I'm sure they'll want to talk to you."

Tony and Ziva got onto the elevator and left. Abby went back down to her lab.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Tim started to walk back to his desk.

"Isn't it nice to feel so loved, though?"

Tim turned around and saw Gibbs' ironic grin. He returned it. "I'd almost be willing to go back to being the butt of everyone's jokes if this would all go away."

"Not gonna happen."

"I know." Tim's smile grew more ironic. "This isn't a comic book."

"No, it's not."

Tim went back to his desk, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he turned around and walked over to Gibbs who _had_ sat down.

"Boss?"

Gibbs looked up. "What, McGee?"

"I know I've said it before, and I know how you feel about apologies..." Tim saw Gibbs start to speak so he rushed on before he could. "...but I'm sorry about how I acted and what I said." He laughed a little shamefacedly. "It's worse than when I first discovered that my dad wasn't invincible. I should know better by now. I know you're not perfect. I knew that you couldn't guarantee that no one would get hurt. I asked because..." Tim looked away, very much ashamed.

"It's okay, McGee."

"No, it's not. It's really not okay, Boss," Tim said firmly, bringing his eyes back onto Gibbs. "I did it to try and force you to promise because I knew...I knew that if you promised, you wouldn't break your promise. You would die rather than break your promise."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows but didn't speak.

"That's not hero-worship or whatever you want to call it," Tim said. "It's one of the things that's always impressed me about you. ...and I used that to try to manipulate you. It didn't work very well, but I shouldn't have even tried. That was wrong...and I'm sorry."

Before Gibbs could answer, his phone rang. "Gibbs. We'll be right up." He hung up.

"Showtime?" Tim asked.

"Yep."

The mask had not been around much in the last couple of days, but now there it was. In seconds, Tim's expression went from worried to slightly blase. Gibbs tried not to sigh at its reappearance. It would probably be a long time before Tim could put the mask away for good.

"Don't worry, McGee," Gibbs said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're on home court."

Tim allowed himself to be directed up the stairs. "I'm kind of the wrong person for sports analogies."

"I don't know any computer-based ones."

Tim laughed. "Neither do I."

They reached Jenny's office. Cynthia nodded at them and smiled at Tim. He almost smiled back, but couldn't. The mask was fairly rigid. It didn't allow for much variety in terms of expressions.

Gibbs stepped back and allowed Tim to precede him into the office.

"Ah, Special Agent McGee, Special Agent Gibbs," Director Carew said, standing from his seat at the table. Gibbs looked quickly at Jenny. Her expression was much the same as Tim's...although what she was hiding was less clear. Tim, again, shook his hand...and again, Gibbs did not. They all sat down. Tim looked at Director Carew. He was frankly terrified. He had done enough snooping to be sent to prison for the rest of his life...or worse.

"Relax, Agent McGee," Carew said, smiling. It was the same kind of smile Tim had been using...only more practiced.

"I am," Tim said.

"No, you're not. You're pretty good actually. A quick study, but your eyes give you away...if you happen to be someone used to looking for it."

Tim's expression didn't change. "Looking for what?"

"Emotion. In your case, fear. It's an interesting sensation isn't it, being able to hide what you're feeling."

Tim didn't see why they were talking about this. "Is there point to this? I'm not particularly in the mood for discussing my eyes."

Carew smiled again, more genuinely. "It's germaine, although not important, particularly." He sat back and waited.

Tim allowed a little bit of frustration through. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "No. It's not an interesting sensation. Interest implies a positive connotation. I can't think of anything positive coming out of my recent experiences."

"This ability to hide what you feel..."

"It's not positive. It's a necessity and one I'd gladly forego needing."

"And yet, you're using it."

Tim gave a cynical smile. "Of course, I am. I don't trust you."

"I know. You shouldn't. I have given you no reason to. You aren't willingly giving me any weapons to use against you. The fact that you despise doing it..."

"Despise?"

"Wrong word choice again?"

"Yes."

"In what way? Too strong?"

Tim shook his head. "No. Not strong enough."

"Would your father be able to give the correct word?"

Gibbs started to shift, but Jenny shook her head, slightly. He glared at her, but subsided.

"Are you showing off or are you threatening?" Tim asked, his voice hard.

"Neither."

"Then, what is the point, _Director_? I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than discuss my family."

"True. I have many demands on my time."

"Then, I suggest you get to the point," Tim said, sounding a lot like Gibbs. He never looked away from Carew. In fact, it was almost as though Gibbs and Jenny weren't even in the room.

"This _is_ the point, Agent McGee."

"What is? My eyes, again?"

"No. You...are the point. You hacked into the CIA last year."

"...at my instigation," Gibbs interjected. It was as though he had not spoken. Neither of the combatants looked at him at all.

"You have been working for a group...and drawing a CIA salary, _interestingly _enough."

"I don't need the money. You can have it back if you're hard up."

Carew waved that away and continued, "You have seen more of the CIA system than probably any other person in the world...excepting perhaps myself."

"With all due respect, Director, I think I've seen more than you have. If you had known about this other group, I wouldn't be in this position."

"True enough. Tell me something, Agent McGee."

"What would you like to know?"

"What would it take to break you?"

Tim stared.

"If some terrorist group or even just your average every day criminal got a hold of you and wanted information...what would it take? I've read the report the CIA team filed. It makes for _interesting _reading."

Tim had been sitting up straight in his chair, but now he leaned back and folded his arms. "Why?"

"Because in all of this, I don't think anyone ever took the trouble to ask."

"What if I lied? Would you be able to tell?"

"I don't know. Probably." He paused. "Everyone can be broken, Agent McGee. I haven't seen a person who hasn't. Even if the information is false, there's still something that they'll say if it gets bad enough."

"I think I did break, the first time," Tim said, his voice soft, showing some emotion for the first time since he'd come into the room. "I'm not sure. Everything's fuzzy about that weekend...except for the things that didn't actually happen, _interestingly_ enough. I think I tried to help, but I couldn't. I couldn't do what they wanted me to do. The second time, I didn't. I refused, even though I didn't know what I was refusing, I still said no."

"From what I gather, that's _all_ you said."

"Could be. I'm not sure." He leaned forward again, earnest. "I _can_ be broken...but it wouldn't be just because of pain. That would help, but pain goes away, eventually, even if it's only because you die. They'd have to have leverage." Tim couldn't decide why it was that he was telling the man who had orchestrated his torture all this, but he kept talking. "My family. My friends. Threats to them would be much harder to take than threats to me."

"What about this country? If you were given the choice between saving your father and saving the country, what would you choose?"

Tim laughed. "I'd like to say that the country would come first, but I don't know if it would. Honestly, if you put my father on one scale and the rest of the country on the other scale...for me...they'd come out nearly even. I don't know which one would win."

Carew looked at Jenny. "I see what you mean, Director Shephard."

"I told you," she said.

"Very well." Director Carew suddenly became all business...and seemed somehow more real than he had before. "Agent McGee. It is the determination of the CIA that you pose a low risk to national security. I officially certify that you are a man able to be trusted with," his smile became heavily laced with irony, "full disclosure to CIA secrets. There will be no legal action taken against you and you are...off the hook, as they say. There will be official documentation regarding my decision." He looked at Jenny. "You should have all the paperwork within the next day. Well, it's been a pleasure." He stood up and walked to the door. He was halfway out when he turned back. "Oh, and Agent McGee?"

Tim looked at him.

"Should you ever want a job...we're hiring."

Tim didn't reply and Carew smiled...probably the first real smile he'd shown them and then he was gone.

"Are you all right, McGee?" Jenny asked.

Tim's jaw was working, but he didn't speak. He stared at the table, running his finger along the groove.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Tim said. "Maybe...an apology? An acknowledgment of what they did to me? Maybe even a thank you...definitely not a job offer."

"An apology from the CIA? I've yet to see them _ever_ acknowledge fault," Jenny said. "I had some contact with the FBI. They want to know who to thank. I just said it was an anonymous tip. If you would like the credit, you can have it, Agent McGee."

"No. I don't want credit for any of it," Tim said.

"You have scheduled time with a psychiatrist, I assume?"

Tim nodded, still staring at the table.

"Good. From the agency list?"

Tim nodded again.

"Good. We can write it off then." Jenny stood up and smiled as Tim automatically did as well. "Legally, you're off the hook, and if you want to take a few days to relax or whatever, you certainly deserve to."

"Thank you, Director. I'm fine. I'd rather just keep working."

"Very well. The offer is open."

"Thank you, ma'am." Tim stood. "Is that all?"

"Yes, McGee, it is," she said, looking at him with sympathy.

"Thank you, ma'am." Tim walked out.

"Keep an eye on him, Jethro."

"What do you think I've been doing for the last two days, Jen?" Gibbs asked, rhetorically.

"I know that. I think it's going to take some time for it to sink in."

"That's probably the understatement of the year," Gibbs said and followed Tim out.

"More than likely," Jenny said to herself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee," Gibbs said.

"What, Boss?" Tim asked. He had returned to his desk and was ostensibly working, although since he didn't have anything to do, it was questionable.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm free, Boss," Tim said, a light vein of sarcasm running through his words.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

"Well?"

"Well, I don't know how I'm doing."

"Don't you?"

That seemed to be the outlet Tim was needing. He stood up. "Okay, fine. I _do_ know how I'm doing. I'm furious! These people...they _tortured_ me. I was coerced into working for them. And...I'm supposed to be grateful that they're not going to put me in prison? That's it? I'm supposed to be happy about that and just go on with my life?"

"I think so."

"Well, that's not gonna happen, Boss! I can't just forget! I don't think I can _ever_ forget what I did and what _they_ did! What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't think you're supposed to say anything at all."

"That's because there's nothing _to_ say. Nothing will happen. They'll go on with whatever they do and I'm just supposed to go back to doing what I do."

"Don't you want that?"

"It can't happen that way."

"Again, not what I asked."

Tim sat back down and ran his hand through his hair. "Yes, of course, it's what I want. ...but I don't know how to..."

"It will take time, McGee, but you can do it."

"Right."

Gibbs, as he had said, watched Tim throughout the rest of the day. He was on edge, but at least he wasn't putting the mask back in place. Small victories.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

"Okay, McGee, that's it. You're leaving," Tony announced that evening.

"No, I'm not, Tony," Tim answered, not looking up from his computer.

"Oh, yes, you are. You've always been hopeless socially, Probie, and I'm not going to let you make it worse by sleeping at your desk for three nights straight."

"I'm fine, Tony," Tim said, still not looking up.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not. Abby's threatening to hogtie you and drag you to her coffin. Now, while I'm not saying that's an unpleasant solution, I think you've probably progressed beyond the stage of being buried alive."

"What?"

"Ha! I _knew_ you weren't really paying attention!"

Tim looked up. "I _was_, but you rarely make a whole lot of sense, Tony."

"Mock me all you want, Probie. You're still not staying here tonight."

"Tony...please, don't do this."

Joking was over. "You can't stay here, McGee."

Tim gave up the pretense of working completely. "Why not?"

"The rent's too high."

Tim gave a half-smile. "I know have to leave eventually...but I'm not ready yet."

"If you wait until you're ready, you'll never be ready."

"Very Zen, Tony."

"Very true, McGee."

Tim tried to refocus on the screen. "I'm not...not ready to go yet."

Tony didn't answer and when Tim looked up again, he was gone. Tim sighed in relief, thinking he'd given up. However, five minutes later, Tony was back...with reinforcements.

"McGee! Come on! Time to go!" Tony ordered.

Tim sighed and didn't look up again. "No, Tony. I told you. I'm not going."

Tony walked around the desk and spun Tim away from his computer. "McGee...I'm trying to be nice here...but if you keep this up, I'm going to get Ziva here to drag you out of NCIS by your hair."

Tim laughed, but he was obviously afraid...and not of Ziva.

"Come, McGee. We shall...paint the town. Why _does_ that phrase mean partying?"

"I have no idea," Tim answered, "but do we have to party? I really don't want to go clubbing or anything like that."

"How about dinner?" she suggested.

Tim hesitated.

"We'll keep you safe, McGee," Tony said, only half-joking.

Tim looked from Tony to Ziva. She nodded. "You will be safe with us, McGee."

"Okay, fine."

"Great! Let's go!" Tony pulled Tim out of his chair and to the elevator.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The dinner was only partially successful. Abby joined them, and they managed to hedge Tim into a booth so that no one could approach him unexpectedly from behind, but as the night progressed, he began to show less and less emotion, a situation they were all beginning to associate with the new Tim reaction to fear. Instead of relaxing, he was becoming more tense. He started looking out the window more and scrutinzing every customer who walked by their table. Finally, they had to give it up.

"Okay, Tim, let's go," Abby said.

"Okay." Tim nearly shoved her out of the booth as he slid around. Abby slid her arm around his waist. He reciprocated, but his grip was much tighter.

"It's okay, Tim," she whispered as Tony paid.

"I know," he answered softly.

"Your head might know, but I think it should share that information with the rest of you."

Tim chuckled...and did relax a fraction. They walked out into the parking lot and Tim looked back when he heard a whispered argument going on behind him. He couldn't decipher the words, but he was certain he saw some rock, paper, scissors going on.

"What's up?"

One more round of rock, paper, scissors saw Ziva looking annoyed and Tony looking triumphant.

"Guys? What are you doing?"

"You're not going back to NCIS tonight, Probie," Tony announced.

Tim suddenly felt cold. "Yes, I am, Tony."

"Nope. You're coming to my place."

"Tony..."

Abby tightened her arm around his waist. "Tim, nothing will happen."

"I know, but that's not the point."

"What _is_ the point, then, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Then, he hung his head. "I'm afraid. I know nothing will happen, but I'm afraid that it will."

Ziva walked over to him and lifted his head. "McGee, that is not shameful. I was afraid."

"When?"

"Many times over the last few weeks. I was afraid when you had disappeared. I was afraid when I sat with you in the hospital. I was afraid when we could only listen to you without knowing where you were. Being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I wasn't afraid before," Tim said.

"When, Tim?" Abby asked.

"All through the last couple of months. I wasn't really afraid."

Ziva smiled and nodded. "That is because you had no hope. It is easy to feel no fear when you do not think anything can get better. Now, things _can_ and you fear losing that, yes?"

"Yeah," Tim admitted reluctantly.

"Well, you'll lose it if you hide, Tim," Abby said.

"What is this? An intervention?" Tim asked.

"If that's what it takes, Probie," Tony said. "Now..." He gestured to his car.

"Okay."

"Good boy!" Tony led the way while Ziva and Abby went their separate ways.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why are we going to your place, Tony? Mine's closer," Tim asked on the way over.

"Because if we stay at your place, I'll have to share the bed with you...and I don't like you that much, McGee."

"Good point."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At Tony's apartment, Tim tried really hard not to feel nervous...not to feel frightened, but he couldn't help looking around, peering at the bushes. A woman came out of the building as he and Tony approached. Tim visibly flinched. She looked nothing like his handler, but it was the suddenness of her appearance that frightened him. Tony noticed, he knew, but he didn't mention it...at least not until they got into his apartment.

"Why are you doing this, Tony?"

"Because of what you did out there in the hallway."

Tim sat down on a well-used couch. It was nice, but it was also obvious that Tony spent a lot of time there.

"McGee, you can't hide it all, and you can't just assume it will go away. That's the kind of behavior that'll have you putting a hole in your head."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Don't take this wrong, McGee, but I wouldn't have thought that you could spend two months working for the CIA without letting us see it."

Tim looked away.

"Hey! See? That's what I'm talking about right there! You can't look away like that. For one thing, I've seen you talk back to the Director of the CIA and I heard you being incredibly sarcastic to people who threatened you. You don't need to flinch away from someone who's actually being nice to you."

"It was because of you, you know," Tim said softly.

"What?"

"Me...being sarcastic. I tried to imagine what you would say if you were the same situation. Every time I wanted to flinch or stammer or just meekly agree to anything they wanted, I would ask myself what you would do in the same situation. It wasn't really me."

Tony sat down. "McGee, that's flattering and all...I think...but you had to have the words there yourself. And you had to have the guts to say them. I mean, you had a seriously crazy chick coming after you...and you still could find the words to be sarcastic? That's pretty good in my book...actually, it would be pretty good in _your_ book."

Tim shook his head. "No. None of this is going in my book."

"Just a suggestion. The point is, McGee, that you did good on your own."

"I was going to die, Tony."

"But you didn't."

"They were going to get in. I couldn't have stopped them."

"That's why you had us."

"You can't always be there."

"We're a team, McGee. More than that, we're your friends. I will probably never be as nice to you as I am being right now...but that doesn't make it any less true." He grinned.

Tim smiled in response.

"If it takes you days, weeks or months to feel safe outside of NCIS, we'll still be there. Now, granted we'll start getting annoyed if you're calling us up in the middle of the night telling us that you had bad dreams...but you don't have to pretend that everything's all perfect when we know it's not. Do you got that? Or do I need to Gibbs-slap you in order for it to sink in?"

"No, I think I got it, Tony," Tim said.

"Good." Tony walked over to a large cabinet beside his television. "Now, what are we going to watch tonight? I'm guessing that you're probably not in the mood for anything involving the alphabet soup."

Tim stood up and joined him at the cabinet, completely full of movies. "Actually, I think I am."

"_The Bourne Identity_?" Tony suggested.

Tim looked at it. "Okay, maybe I'm not. Wait a minute."

"What?"

"You're kidding."

"What, Probie?"

"You have _Solaris_?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I would have thought it was too esoteric for you."

"Just because I have it, doesn't mean I get it."

"Can we watch it?" Tim asked, grinning.

"I have over 200 movies in here, Probie, and you pick the one movie I bought on impulse?"

"All of these were planned?"

"Don't change the subject."

"We don't have to."

"Just this once, I'll make a sacrifice. And then you can explain to me what in the heck's going on in it."

"Have you read the book?"

"Do I need to answer that, Probie?"

"I guess not. It's really good. Stanislaw Lem liked to leave things to the reader's interpretation."

"I'll take your word for it," Tony said and slid the DVD into his player. Then, he settled on the couch next to Tim and tried to be interested. He had watched it after buying it, but it just wasn't his type of movie. He had stuck it on the shelf and not watched it since. _Leave it to McGee to pick this one._ Still, as he watched Tim smile his geek smile, he decided to make enough of an effort that he could ask him questions after it was over.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...so she was dead, right?"

"Yeah, that's the thing about Solaris. It keeps you guessing about these things and then when you get it...it's like, did I really get it or is it another twist," Tim said, excitedly. He talked and talked, and Tony had to keep himself from telling Tim to shut up because he didn't care about the weird planet. It was nice to see Tim acting like himself. It wouldn't last. Tony knew that, but giving Tim the chance to feel normal, even if it was only because of a dumb movie, was worth a little bit of aggravation. However, after an hour's rehashing during which Tony still didn't think he liked the movie much, he was done.

"Okay, Probie, I can't take the esoterism anymore. I need to go to bed before my brain explodes."

"All right, Tony," Tim said, smiling. He headed to the bathroom, but he stopped just before closing the door. "Hey, Tony?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"For what? Letting you watch a weird movie?"

"No. For helping me...feel like myself again."

Tony smiled. "Anytime, Probie. 'Night."

"Good night, Tony." Tim closed the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Wednesday morning, 7:30 a.m._

"So, how was spending the night with DiNozzo?" Ziva asked.

"Interesting," Tim said. "We watched _Solaris_." Even though he knew it couldn't last, Tim had slept through the night and he was feeling a bit giddy.

"A movie?"

"Yes. Tony didn't even like it."

"Of course, I didn't, McGee," Tony said. "I like _movies_, not someone's psychedelic fantasies put on screen."

Tim leaned over and whispered. "He's just upset that he didn't get what the planet was."

Ziva chuckled. "Feeling better, McGee?"

Tim thought about it. "Right now? Yeah. I am."

"Good. Then, I will not be upset that I lost at rock, paper, scissors."

"You guys were fighting over me?" Tim asked, grinning.

"Don't read anything into that, McGee. I just wanted to get my fellow teammate back in the saddle."

Tim sobered a little. "And I appreciate it, Tony."

"Well, don't go all mushy on me, Probie."

"I won't."

"Good...but you're welcome."

Gibbs walked in from...wherever, and looked at Tim closely. "You all right, McGee?"

"I'm better, Boss," Tim said. It wasn't the end, not by a long shot, but at least now, he thought it was possible.

"Good. We had a sighting of our allegedly dead petty officer in Alexandria. Let's roll."

"On it, Boss," Tim said.

"Oh, and McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Don't go wandering off."

Tim grinned and nodded. "Only if the occasion calls for it, Boss."

"Good answer."

FINIS!


End file.
